Nutnfancy Author's note: My Europa Break story is 100% written by me, not AI. There will be errors, maybe typos b of that. The story is subject to change in small ways. I will use AI for the artwork only and the images take a long time to get right. They add a lot depth and understanding to the amazing people in this story. Enjoy this first part of meeting our Commander in Chief of the Europa Break:
Journal entry, General Marcus Orion, Call Sign: “Brody,” Date: 27 March 2035, Location: 37º 20’ N 123º 32’W
Initial Jump
And then I jumped.
Words cannot really capture this feeling. I’ve done some leaps of faith before but nothing quite like this. This had a feeling of doom. And never mind I had just jumped into the feeding ground of several large Great Whites. And the sun was falling.
Would they be there? I figured I had about 1 hour, maybe less, before I shivered uncontrollably. Either way if they weren’t there, I’m dead anyhow. There was no reaching the sailboat with the current. And not another single boat was visible anywhere around.
Leaping off my long time friend “Cool Boy” (my sailboat), in calm seas, at dusk, 30 miles out in the Pacific is crazy. The result of desperation, of a man having no other options, of a man at his wit’s end. I reminded my life clock was coming to end anyhow, no matter this latest development.
The week-long setup convinced even me: A trusted and now disgraced 2 Star USAF General that, in opposition to EG actions, publicly resigns issuing several damning press conferences about the corruption, lack of transparency, and its needless war mongering. I knew by doing this, I was to walk away from another Star and by most accounts a textbook fighter pilot career.
The EarthGov media machine responded immediately. Apparently I was simultaneously a sexual deviant, financial criminal, separatist extremist, traitor, and probably responsible for poor weather patterns in the Midwest. It was impressive really. Given another news cycle they might have pinned the extinction of the dinosaurs on me too. Standard EarthGov playbook for all those that refuse to bend the knee. Of course none of it was true.
Since I have no idea who may eventually read this journal, I feel compelled to establish a few facts. Not because my accomplishments are particularly remarkable, but because history has recently taken a creative interest in rewriting them and obfuscating my contributions to the military. Here’s a partial resume of Brody man: Combat pilot/flight lead/Sq CC in F35 then the F47, NGAD war plans, combat experience 9 (5 combat tours), 3 shoot downs, 1 ejection and rescue, commander of 2 squadrons, Wing Commander, NGAD Generation Team Leader, staff tour at numbered Air Force staff, 1 exchange tour in mx, War College honors…I even fixed the coffee machine once. I got the most praise for fixing the coffee machine, btw.
By most measurements it was a successful career and I had been promised my 3rd Star if I could just learn to shut up and color. But I couldn’t. There were things I couldn’t unsee and I was up at nights staring at the ceiling wondering how I had cashed in my integrity to participate in this EG War Machine, suffocating dissension. I had weighed alternatives and none were better. In a 2 weeks of mostly sleepless nights I decided I’d rather be at peace with myself than the bureaucracy. In a sense this was my first leap…into the unknown.
Contact and plans shown
I didn’t know of the Europa Council or even knew it was a thing, a movement, or whatever. And they came to me. Not through some elaborate cloak-and-dagger operation. Not in a dark parking garage. Not through an encrypted video message. Not a drone delivering an SD card message. They sent a women.
They approached me on Sunday morning on the marina dock. The “messenger” looked like a lost jogger asking me for directions. She wasn’t. This liaison called me by name, introduced herself, and produced laser credentials identifying her as an authorized “Europa Council” representative. Then she calmly informed me she had been sent specifically to speak with me. I remember looking around to see if someone was filming a practical joke. Was I being targeted by some whack-job conspiracy movement? I was known in the media so it seemed plausible.
I glanced behind her about 10 yards and there stood the second operative, I’ll call her "Nakita. " She wore a simple black cap, black softshell jacket, said nothing, and stared right through me. She was the shooter I figured. I didn’t know they’d come this soon though. I’d only been out on the coast for one month.
My liaison said her name was Reese. She was a young attractive, athletic looking black girl with her hair pulled up in a simple bun. The runner motif was completed with Oakley sunglasses, a compression knee brace, Garmin watch, worn-out Asics, and a pink windbreaker. The back of the windbreaker read: “I CARRY MACE.”
I remember staring at that for several seconds.
She caught me looking.
"It cuts down on awkward conversations," she explained. I liked this girl. We had a female pilot in our F35 squadron just like her. Call sign was “Mounds" and she was a legit fighter pilot. She'd kick your ass in BFM if you let your guard down for second. Reese reminded me of her.
She then nodded toward a nearby dock shelter. No cameras. No foot traffic. Just a weathered wood picnic shelter, coated with dried salt, smelling of dead fish, and enjoying a view of several million dollars' worth of yachts. Some were of their owners could be seen in the distance, lounging on their decks. Their owners who would never believe the conversation that was about to take place. Reese was about to tell me a fantastical story.
“We’re going to make another world, wanna’ go?”
That was her hook. I knew then this wasn’t some EG hit as I’d thought; this was something from left field. I looked past Reese to Nakita and searched for any hint of joking. Both looked determined and focused on their agenda. There was no laughing from them, no belying of the eyes indicating other than pure business. My pilots used to call me out for the same expression in our pre-strike briefings. Now it's come back to me.
She said a highly organized and fully funded off-Earth separatist movement had been preparing off-earth spacecraft for well over a decade and that their launch window would arrive soon enough. She described the underground build facilities and promised imagery of the same. Reese said they constantly worked at maintaining secrecy of this operation against EarthGov intelligence gathering and spies. So far they had won but she said with an operation this big there are no certainties. .
She said, despite some setbacks these “Stella” spacecraft, funded by the Europa Council, were nearing completion. Their mission was to transport 1000 genetically screened human embryos aboard six ships, along with an “assortment of earth wildlife.” Both would be gestated at the proper time and place. The Stella craft with their 30 crew and 10 GAITs (General AI Technicians) would be the protectors and transporters of this future human race.
“What’s the destination?”
“The Jupiter Moon of Europa…initially.”
I laughed out loud. Not a polite chuckle. An actual laugh. I knew enough about logistics, technology, manufacturing, surveillance, intelligence operations, and the suffocating reach of EarthGov bureaucracy to know such a thing should have been impossible.
“You’re looking at this through the wrong lens. We have developed materials and propulsion units that outpace traditional systems by a factor of 85%…maybe more,” she explained without blinking.
“Can you give details…if you’re asking me to come with you…I’ll need at least that.”
“Details huh?” and Reese then produced an electronic pad.
A council member appeared on screen and addressed me by name. Not just my rank or public biography. Me. He discussed details of my career that never appeared in official records, told me about Susan leaving me, my kids and their whereabouts, my friend associations, summarized my command conflicts, gave details of my conversations I’ve had, and described aspects of my personality that I wasn't entirely comfortable hearing from a stranger. I found his dossier on my both impressive and unnerving at once. He said this was necessary to establish “EC competence;” we know everything about you.
Then he showed me progress of what he called The Stella spacecraft.. The video wasn't polished and it certainly wasn't AI generated. There was no dramatic music and no inspirational speeches. Just raw construction footage that he let me watch…knowing it would land with me. I saw massive pressure hulls. Odd propulsion units and their interfacings. Industrial facilities. Assisting drones. Assisting mech units working directly with real people. All in what appeared to be a massive underground structure.
He explained two key non-human technologies had been reverse engineering by EC human engineers and their assisting GAITs and have been tested as successful. GAD and AEX9 were explained briefly. Gravitational Acceleration Drive had the capability to capture and store gravitational fields from all celestial bodies, transforming that energy in multi-vector format among other abilities.
He said, in terms of speed and payload, the current chemical rocket technology moves like a swimmer in the ocean compared to turbine powered ferry boat (58 knots, HSC Francisco built by Incat). The analogy was not lost on me. This man was speaking my language.
Then he showed me a glistening panel of metal I hadn’t seen before. This was the human adapted AEX9… and it really wasn’t a metal. He said was just called it that because that’s how we understand it best. At 85% Lighter than even titanium he said this allowed far larger and lighter weight spacecraft, larger and wider payloads, amor plating, and even had been adapted for effective human radiation shielding.
I remember the strong magnetosphere of Jupiter from my Wiki studying and own astronomy. These guys had my attention now.
Nakita shifted uncomfortably at the end of the structure as two men approached. She had her hand inside her jacket as she tracked their passage. Turns out they were just passing boaters. I turned back to Reese and saw that she too was ready to draw, relaxing only after they team had passed.
“Jumpy?”
“Like I said, this space jaunt is not EarthGov sanctioned.”
Back to the tablet: the man then showed me some more of the final phases of construction: the teams working at high pace. I found this more interesting that the tech realm and I had seen this before in the military: a war mission. It brings out the best in everyone and it makes schedules happen. Excuses disappear. Missions focus everyone involved. And here it is now building a Jupiter-bound spacecraft. Unreal.
I wanted to be part of whatever this was.