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First Contact - Third Wave - Chapter 369 (Memoirs)

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The alert came across the datalinks on, first, the emergency broadcast channel. Then it was cancelled then broadcast across the General Command Frequency. That was cancelled and then the System Most High came over the Government Mandatory Announcement Channel on all of our datalinks.
I don't remember the exact words but he was panicking. I can remember, still, how he had foam around his jowls, how his feeding tendrils spasmed, how his eyes rolled in all six sockets. How his words were tumbling over one another and he babbled out over and over variations of 'we're all going to die.'
I was moving before my military police escorts, trotting away, toward the motor pool.
My tank was there. 15-281-31. My faithful tank.
I reached the motorpool when everyone else was still running in circles. I had stopped by the armory and found it empty, abandoned. I got my armor, which was to protect me from hull fragments spalled off by any hit that did not penetrate the armor but deformed the interior to spray shards of metal through the crew compartment. I had no personal weapons, a tanker I did not need them.
The motor pool was empty as I trotted through it.
I remember plas sheets blowing by in the winds. One stuck in my mind, a plas info-sheet informing everyone that possession of Terran media was considered subversive and would be punished harshly. It scraped across the plascrete, whispering.
It was then I heard it.
The shockwave hit me hard, but my armor possessed psychic shielding and I managed to keep my feet, staggering.
My tank waited. 125 tons of hovering death.
I went through the checklist, walking around outside of it. I activated and deployed the weapons. The tank had no ammunition, the weapons were disabled, but still, I deployed them and ran through function checks. When that was done I climbed in and went through each position, each station, activating them and running the proper preventive maintenance checks and services.
Once I needed to go get transmission fluid for the right forward number one nacelle fan gearbox.
Twice more I heard it.
The day was clear. Sunny, warm, a pleasant breeze.
I looked to the sky. Not for contemplation, but out of curiosity.
How long until the Precursors arrive?
Not long.
I returned to the motor pool master maintenance building, going through offices, until I found the keys to the munitions locker and the weapon locker.
I set about making my tank ready to fight.
When I had finished activating the weapons, arming them, loading the munitions bays, I sat beside the tank, waiting.
I shuddered, a trickle of blood oozing from my nostril.
My Company Commander galloped by, tearing at his own mane with his hands, ripping at his own face, screeching as he kicked and lunged down the road.
My helmet clinked and I activated the communications channels.
What I heard filled me with relief.
"This is Armored Host Most High A'armo'o. All troops, to your tanks. I am with you."
--Excerpt From: We Were the Lanaktallan of the Atomic Hooves, a Memoir.
Vuxten checked the six Telkan that were crouched down on the gantry, their missile launchers bobbing slightly as they compensated for the movement of the massive mining machine. He double-checked their infra-red laser guidance systems against the points that Sergeant Casey had pointed out.
"Team One, fire," Vuxten ordered.
Two missiles launched, driven by graviton accelerators, the solid fuel rocket motors kicking in less than five meters from the launcher. The missiles went hypersonice less than ten meters from the launch point, streaking out to exploded against the battlesteel axles of the grinders.
Both axles exploded. The grinder sections stopped moving, one partially falling in.
"Give me a second," Glory said. She shifted her arm a few times. "OK. It's coming loose."
Vuxten looked up. The massive mining machine was still chasing the Confederate and Lanaktallan military forces. Its sheer bulk forced them to engage the other Precursor machines as they went, face t face, with no finesse or maneuvering.
As Vuxten watched a Lanaktallan tank took a hit the cupola jumping off the ring, green and orange flames billowing out from around the ring-seal, the hatches exploding off.
It didn't die alone. The two Lanaktallan tanks flanking it gutted its killer with precise plasma rounds.
"All right," Glory said. She looked up at Vuxten. "How's it going out there?"
"Not good," Vuxten admitted. "They're taking hits. A couple Terran tanks got knocked out a few minutes ago."
"Get me loose and I'll gut this big bastard," Glory said.
"Team Two, fire," Vuxten ordered.
Three missiles this time. The driveshafts for the massive grinders blew apart and the grinders, these ones cone shaped, went still. Glory shifted again, managing to get one arm out. She flexed her fingers, her arm and hand scraped and gouged.
"Much better," she said.
Vuxten ordered the other three teams, one at a time, to fire at the specific points Casey had pointed out. When it ended, Glory managed to get both arms free, bracing her hands against the massive housing cover. She pushed her way out until she was sitting on the edge of the housing, looking at her legs.
"Man, I'm all scratched up," she complained. She looked up at Casey. "So, champ, what's the plan? Gonna show a girl a good time?"
Casey laughed. "Plan is, blow this big bastard up and run like hell," the Terran said.
471 popped up an image of an explosion with a bunch of greenies flying away all blaming each other for blowing up the breakroom toaster.
"So what do you..." Vuxten started.
Below him, deep in the machine's hulk, circuits finally passed self-check and were powered up. Initial checks reported that the machine was engaged in xenospecies conflict.
The higher function thinking array lobes responded to power up with a single broadcast that blasted out around it.
Vuxten staggered at the shriek, his helmet clamping painfully around his ears.
--word of the digital omnimessiah protect me-- 471 broadcast. Vuxten could see all the green mantids were flashing the same thing as their psychic protection cranked all the way up to max and added something called 'signal interrupt' to the protection.
Addox opened his faceplate, the sides retracting into his helmet, showing his sweaty face. Vuxten could see that Addox's eyes were bright red, his lips were peeled back from his teeth in something that couldn't even charitably be called a grin, and a nerve was spasming on his cheek.
A burning tingling flowed up his arm and Vuxten looked down at his stubber and stared.
The smouldering eagle had gone from a dull red to white fire, the engraving lighting up, and the weapon feeling... different... in his hand.
"What's going on?"
At General General No'Drak turned and looked at the gathered humans. He tagged his link and brought all of the Mantid and Lanaktallan into the channel.
"Do not move. If you have to, move slowly," he texted out.
Every Terran eye in the command center was burning bright red. The humans had gone stock still for a long moment, then began to move again. No'Drak could see that some of the humans were clenching and relaxing their fists. He could see muscle spasms in cheeks, along the jaw, on forearms. Sparks were dancing in some Terran's hair, across their knuckles, or small tiny arcs were travelling up and down arms. Their armor was matte black with the glowing logo of Confederate Space Force on the shoulder and to No'Drak's eyes it looked like the Space Force and Confederacy logos were shining brightly.
He used his command links to check the Terran's vitals.
Pulse and respiration was dead level. Blood pressure cold. Psychic dampeners in the helmets, both protective for the user and those around them were maxed out. Some were failing already. Cyberware reporting rapid fire nerve pulses.
"Keep your hands away from your weapons," he texted. He clicked into the command channels.
"All non-Terran Descent Human personnel report to the armor areas for modular armor addition," General No'Drak said, keeping his voice carefully leveled. "This is a non-discretionary direct order from the theater commander and is to be performed immediately.
He watched down at the work room.
"All Terran shift supervisors, morale and psychic check upon all personnel," No'Drak ordered.
roared out and Trucker spit over the side of his tank. He looked around, spinning the commander's lift in a 360 to get a good look at the battlefield as the barrels of his quad-barrel cooled off. A tenth of his tanks were smoking, either from enemy hits or their nanoforges running hard enough that they'd overheated and were blowing white clouds of vapor as the cooling systems went to work and the slush was reclaimed.
He spun around again, slowly, looking at the shattered wreckage Cry Little Sister was pushing through. He used him implant to tag the machines he was seeing. While it was true that every Precursor vessel put out the same designs on the big machines, the smaller machines often were custom built, function over form, rapidly designed by the Precursor manufacturing systems.
But they always followed a pattern that Trucker could vaguely touch on.
It was obvious that the ones that had landed were Type-III, but he was seeing wreckage from the ones that had surfaced that didn't match the Type-III Precursor ships that had attacked. His implant tagged them, tentatively, as Type-II.
HHC was out of the fight, not due to damage, but the enemy had been defeated in their Area of Operations.
"All units full stop," Trucker said. He waited till Cry Little Sister came to a stop and climbed out.
"Red Comet had dismounted," Trucker heard his communications specialist say, alerting everyone to the fact that his boots had just hit the ground.
Trucker walked over and took a look at the shattered armor and pieces. He tapped his helmet, ordering it to record what he was looking at.
"Have 208 come out here. I want his opinion on this junk," Trucker said. He knelt down and picked up a piece of hardware. He felt the way it was cold in his hand, almost feeling malevolent.
As he watched arcs of psychic energy crawled down his arm, wrapping his fist and the chunk of molycirc in his hand in faint flickering lightning.
The chunk of molycirc sighed and dissolved into dust.
208 jumped off the side of tank, the wings on his armor snapping open. 208 glided next to Trucker, arcing up and dropping to the ground.
--what what boss man-- 208 asked, seeing Trucker dump the dust out of his hand.
"Check those molycircs. Don't try to telemechanic them. Just check them," Trucker said. He reached out and grabbed a chunk of armor, looking at it. He angled it, examining it. "Huh, not exactly battlesteel. This is a laminate, not solid battlesteel."
208 reached out with a probe and tapped the molycirc block, rocking it out of the housing, humming a little ditty to himself.
Trucker turned when 208 gave a loud screech and jumped back, pulling around his rifle and firing at the block. The green mantid engineer, a Technical Specialist Grade Seven, pulled a tiny implosion grenade off his harness and threw it, forcing Trucker to dodge to the side.
The grenade went off as 208 climbed up the side of the tank, still screeching. Two of the other greenies popped out of the maitenance hatches, firing rockets at the wreckage, screeching.
Trucker stood up, shaking slightly at how he'd been close enough to the tiny implosion charge that he'd felt his boots loosen. He heard the chatter over the channels of the tankers of 3rd Armor Division Headquarters and Headquarters Company (HHC) wondering just what was going on.
Dozens of greenies were firing rocket launchers into the wreckage of several different Precursors.
It took Trucker a minute to parse what the greenies were broadcasting. It was so fast, so furious, but at least it was repeated over and over in some variant.
--free we die free we never submit ever again--
"CEASE FIRE!" Trucker roared out over the greenie channel. "CEASE FIRE!"
The fire petered out.
Trucker walked over, looking at the little greenie, who gave the impression of foaming at the mouth, red faced icons flashing between its antenna.
"Mantid make," Trucker said. It wasn't a question.
--no no no-- 208 said.
"Omniqueen make."
Trucker reached up and touched the side of his helmet.
Smokey No watched as Trucker ordered his men to back off from multiple Precursor wreckage and use the quad-barrels on them.
Vuxten staggered to the side, putting his hand against the side of his helmet. He looked up and stepped back, realizing that somehow Casey was standing in front of him, kneeling down.
"This thing didn't come with the others," Casey said.
"It's been here all along."
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submitted by Ralts_Bloodthorne to HFY

I found an unlisted YouTube video that led me to a cult that was supposed to have been shut down by the FBI over 30 years ago.

I also posted this on cults, so sorry if you're seeing this for the second time.
I found an unlisted YouTube video posted in 2018 in a playlist that led me to a cult that was shut down in the late 80's. It seems like they're still active today.
I've seen one or two posts in other places about this video, but nothing that really helped me learn anything about it. Those posts were buried pretty deep.
It was around midnight and I was on a discord call with one of my close friends. We were sending each other weird looking YouTube videos that we found, some of them hilarious and some just outright absurd. It was sort of a contest to see who could find the weirdest video just from looking at the thumbnail and title. I was going through a playlist of videos with weird Russian titles and creepy thumbnails. I randomly picked one. Boy, I sure chose the wrong one.
The video was posted in 2018 by a guy named Stuart Silverstone. He didn't have any other videos like this (or maybe he did, but they were also unlisted) posted on his channel. The video started with a weird picture of a heart zooming in on it while it shook erratically. Then it jumped to a guy hitting the head of someone who was in a canvas bag inside of a bathtub with a handgun. This footage was sped-up. The next shot was the guy lifting the head of the person in the bathtub. She (for some reason I imagine her being a woman, so I'll give her that pronoun. Same goes for the guy.) had a mask over her face, which was weird since it was already covered by the canvas bag. The mask was a red mask, and looked kind of like one of those demons in traditional Japanese art. The bathtub was also full of water now, red, presumably from the woman's blood.
If you so desire, here's the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5K35h7dZncs&feature=emb_err_woyt
And the playlist, there are a couple more fucked up videos but I'm too lazy to sift through the whole thing: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgAG0Ep5Hk9KLiy4GgxwJ6CgBMpX1HzEx
Some people are saying they can't watch it, so I took a screen recording. If you want it, PM me.
The rest of the video was a bunch of cuts. It cut to a blaring red light, and then to a weird concrete wall, and back to the woman, who was now moving slightly. We get another cut the the red light, and then the screen goes black and the video's done. My friend had stopped watching after the first scene with the woman getting hit with the gun, and I can't blame him. There were numbers and letters in the description. They read as such:
There were also three emojis: ⬛️🐕⚰️
The numbers were coordinates, and I'll go into that in a minute, but the letters were indecipherable by my friend and I. We went to a few websites and plugged it into different ciphers, but in the end, didn't really come up with anything of meaning. The title was also a strange string of numbers:
We weren't able to reap anything from this, except for that the two first words came out as BLACK BOX in one of the ciphers.
After plugging in the coordinates, we found a little cabin next to a river in a town called Pelzer, SC. There wasn't much else that came from this. There was also a link in the description of the video, which I didn't click due to being scared of whatever the hell it could be. Maybe it would track me or something.
Through googling the guys name, we got lead to a website describing a cult called the "Finders Cult".
I'll link the website here: https://spidercatweb.blog/the-finders-cult
It's a weird website, with more un-decoded words and a bunch of videos that have been taken down as of now. It gave some information on the cult, but also a lot of weird nonsense.
Finally, after googling the Finders Cult, I came to a few news sites that talked about how the FBI declassified over 600 pages about a group called the Finders, a cult involved in child trafficking in the late 80's. What freaked me out is that this video was posted in 2018, and supposedly the cult was shut down long ago. Fortunately, this didn't end up affecting me in any way, but it made me wonder if the victim in the video was a child, since they're involved in child sex trafficking. Who knows. It was a really creepy, fucked up thing to find, and if anyone knows anything about it, I'd love a more in-depth explanation.
Edit: here's the FBI declassification. https://vault.fbi.gov/the-finders
Edit 2: Here are some creepy quotes from a website I found breaking down the declassification and the website itself.
The strange men with a herd of young kids were brought in and questioned in Tallahassee and the van they traveled in was impounded. It was noted that one of the men did not cooperate at all, and when questioned appeared to go into a “trance-like state”. Questioning of the children lead to some interesting results. A lot of answers came from the oldest child Mary, as some of the younger ones were non-verbal. When asking Mary what her last name was, she replied, “Which one?” The children seemed unaware of modern technology, electricity, hot water and were curious to even the most simple contraptions such as staplers.
They did not attend school and said the men were their teachers. When asked what the men taught them, the oldest said they are taught “How to play games.” They said they lived with their mothers, although were not allowed *inside* of the house. They lived in the van and in tents. They traveled often, sometimes by plane. They were on a trip away to “wean” the youngest from their mothers. Officers noted that the youngest ones had no diapers on and had been taught that the ground outside was their bathroom. One apparently went potty directly on the floor in the questioning room. When asked who the leader of the group is, the oldest child had replied “the Game Caller.” When offered food, one child consumed 8 bananas and an orange. They all seemed extremely hungry.
The McMartin preschool is then documented to have many tunnels underneath it and the children were able to accurately describe entrances and exits. There were electrical switches in the school that did not work for that purpose, but rather sounded alarm alert systems. Classroom 3 contained no doorknob but solely a deadlock bolt. In the tunnels, pentagrams were found carved into the walls and on plates, along with 100 animal bones. The owner of this preschool was indicted; the trial lasted six years and then in 1993 all charges were dropped due to “lack of evidence”. In all these situations, it’s been said that no one ever ‘saw the child abuse against victims’ and therefore prosecution was ‘difficult’ to prove.
Honestly, I could post the contents of this document and it would be a fucking creepy story in and of itself. Jesus Christ. This is REAL.
Edit 3: I've checked out his channel, and there's a playlist with some videos in it. Most are harmless, but one is by some other YouTube channel and has more weird letters in the description. Here's the link. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MUmuHPOUgvo&list=PLdYOclDlXE-RAGmZegP3rGJoOgQqxMcbR
Edit 4: So my friend sent me a post about another conspiracy called pizzagate, and Stuart Silverstone was mentioned there too. According to my friend, it would make sense if The Finders invested in some of the properties of Pizzagate since they owned so many properties in SC (The Finders did). I am extremely malinformed of this though, so that's not really a solid claim for me to make.
Edit 5: You all keep telling me to contact people to expose it, but it's been a long night for me. If you want to send them this post, go ahead. Also, a user who has been messaging me about this with tons of articles and info they found left this comment on my post in cults:
I found your cipher
Why would a medium sized yellow jwkrnalst (journalist) create a big blak vicious dog
A=C B=Z C=T D=I E=N F=W G=V I=P J=K K=G L=Y M=R N=X O=F Q=H R=B S=A T=D U=L V=S W=O X=E Y=M Z=U H=J or Q P= J or Q
Source: https://voat.co/v/pizzagate/1877315
The same user left this comment about that as well:
That’s possible. Unless you consider Cerberus, the guard dog of Hades. This was mentioned in another post and explained it more in depth.
submitted by gorflop to conspiracy

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