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Dubya & the CTT Axis of Evil

Part II


~ or ~



The Restoration of CTT



Sequel to The AH Terror Plot of CTT




Pie In the Sky


An NSA analyst team was watching the live feed from KH-23. They were truly amazing pictures. From several hundred kilometres above the Earth, the satellite’s cameras were able to read a newspaper on the surface. On this occasion, however, they weren’t reading someone else’s newspaper for free. Instead they were getting a far more entertaining show.

"Will you look at that driving!" observed an excited NSA analyst with a slight Southern accent.

"Isn’t he on the wrong side of the road?" asked Sarah.

"They drive on the left down there, like the British," advised Dan from the state of Georgia, "although to be honest I don’t think he gives a crap at the moment."

"It looks like he’ll crash at any second!" replied Sarah.

"Na. This guy could drive for NASCAR and probably win" observed Dan with a respectful grin.

"What’s that sticking out of the windows?" asked the NSA supervisor trying to get their mission back on track. "Are they weapons?"

"Nope" report Sarah immediately. "The heat signature is all wrong. They’re biologic."

"Biologic?" asked the supervisor.


"Zoom in the viewer. I want to see what they are" order the supervisor. "Maybe there are other terrorists we weren’t aware about."

Within a second the screen had a close-up of the biological object in question. "It’s a dog!" announced a third analyst watching on from in front.

"And the object sticking out of the other window?" prompted the supervisor.

"Yup, another dog" reported Sarah.

"And the heat signature at the rear is another dog" added Dan.

"Dogs?" a somewhat confused supervisor inquired.

"No doubt about it, unless your little green alien friends have some great camouflage" observed Dan whilst peering closely at his monitor.

"Maybe just like that dog in Men In Black," joked Sarah.

"There are green aliens I swear!" roared the supervisor.

"Oh Shit!" an alarmed Sarah spat out.

"Where’s the picture?" asked the supervisor. "Get it back now!"

"We can’t," reported Dan, "it seems we’ve just had a solar flare!"




"They lost him?" asked a somewhat stunned Dubya.

"Yes, sir" answered Rumsfeld.

"How on Earth do you lose a car with three dogs sticking their heads out of the windows?"

"They have a lot of dogs in Australia, bro" Jeb tried to explain.

"And how many red Saabs are driving around Australia with both dogs and bullet holes in them?" countered Dubya with much sarcasm.

"Mister President," started Oli, "it wasn’t through lack of trying. The problem was a solar flare. It disrupted satellite communications for about ten minutes. By the time we got KH-23 back, the terrorist’s car was impossible to re-a-quire."

"Really?" Dubya asked with some disgust in his voice.

"It’s nothing more than a freak of nature, bro" offered Jeb. "An accident. Nothing else."

"About the only freak of nature is that Australian," began Dubya. "And that freak managed to escape capture from some of our best - apparently!"

"It was nothing more than pure luck on the terrorist’s behalf," stated Oli. "We’ll track him down and get him. He won’t get away from us a second time."

"Well before we try a second time," said Dubya whilst glaring at Oli, "can someone really explain to me how a specialist military team got butt fucked by an amateur terrorist and his three dogs the first time around?"

"I wouldn’t say it was that bad, sir" defended Rumsfeld.

This was too much for Dubya. He was about to reply when he saw, over Rumsfeld’s shoulder, the TV displaying the latest news update. "Then what would you call it, you idiot? It’s all over the TV news, not only in Australia, but right here on fucking CNN!"




John Howard, Prime Minister of Australia, was a worried man. Not only did he have some leadership troubles, but all of a sudden a security flash message was handed to him by his security chief. It was bad enough seeing the TV news that evening, with reports of a wild gun battle taking place in the Hunter Valley, but now this message confirmed it. And even still, upon reading the message, he had to ask his security chief for verbal confirmation.

"To be honest, Prime Minister, the police investigators have no particular conclusions. But there are some preliminary facts which they’ve shared with ASIO."

"And we’re certain that this wasn’t simply some wild drunkard brawl that got out of hand? They’re pretty feral around those parts at times" observed Howard.

"Well nothing is one hundred percent certain, sir" began Major-General Wally Lewis, "but it doesn’t seem like a couple of the lads getting drunk on homebrew."

"Very well, then, continue" ordered Howard.

"In fact DIO have already begun looking into the real situation" advised Lewis. "After all, that’s why we’ve got the DIO."

"Yes, instead of a Royal Commission or some other ‘official’ investigation…" agreed Howard.

"Exactly, sir. If you really want to know what’s really going on, instead of merely covering it up, we have DIO look into it" smiled Lewis reassuringly.

"And the New South Wales police?" asked Howard.

"Well you can ask them, sir, if you really want the opinion of a bunch of glorified parking patrol officers" smirked Lewis.


"So what has ASIO come up with?"

"As I said, just what the police have come across. The bullets used, for example, are of US military origin. The vehicle, which was used by the four unknown attackers, was a large black American type van. And the attackers spoke with American accents" explained Lewis.

"That’s not much to go on" observed Howard.

"It’s a lot more than all that so-called WMD evidence we used against Saddam" defended Lewis.

"Well that evidence came from the Americans" protested Howard.

"So, apparently, did our uninvited friends" countered Lewis mischievously.

"Some friends," Howard said slowly with some reflection. "You mentioned DIO was looking into this mess. Do they know anything yet?"

"Yes, they pretty well know the whole story, actually" Lewis stated flatly.

"What?" asked a stunned Howard.

"Oh, yes" began Lewis. "You see, Prime Minister, the Americans think the Joint Base Facility at Pine Gap is really only an American one. But we’ve had the place bugged, not to mention we’ve hacked into their communications systems, for many years now. It means that we get first class intelligence, full access to the US KH satellites, and all the dirty little secrets from around the region, if not from around the globe, for the price of a bug which you can buy on eBay for about a dollar ninety-nine."

"Anything juicy?" inquired Howard.

"Well the previous Indonesian President had a certain liking for, how can I put this, horizontal jogging with shady ladies."

"Really?" responded a slightly embarrassed Howard. "To look at him you’d never believe it. By the way, should you be telling me any of this information, General, especially the part about our bugging of Pine Gap?"

"Probably not, but if you told anyone, and the Americans found out, well you may find yourself surfing with Harold Holt the next day. And your deputy will become PM the next" replied Lewis knowing that mentioning Howard’s deputy, in getting his job, was more than enough to keep his Prime Minister’s mouth shut.

"So what of this Atwell character?"

"It’s complete nonsense. I don’t know how or why the Americans think he’s a terrorist, but be rest assured he isn’t. At worst, he’s a non-practicing member of the ALP. At best, he’s a failed Australian historian" reported Lewis, having emphasised the word Australian, in order to make an impact with the PM. "Having said that, such facts didn’t stop the Americans sending in a Special Forces team to kidnap him."

"What? The Americans invading Australian territory? Trying to kidnap a citizen?" a stunned Howard demanded to know.

"Well it isn’t the first time, sir. In fact Atwell was to be smuggled out to Gitmo to keep the other Australian there company" answered Lewis.

"As if that issue isn’t bad enough already" Howard almost pleaded.

"Indeed" agreed Lewis.

"Well, we can’t declare war on the Americans," reflected Howard, "so is there anything which we can do?"

"Yes, sir, there is" said Lewis to a relived Howard. "Thanks to our bugging of the Americans we have a very good idea where the US Special Forces team is hiding out. Apparently they’re going to make another attempt at kidnapping this Atwell character sometime soon."

"Good God no! Their last attempt pretty well saw an entire block of Cessnock destroyed. I’d hate to think what’ll happen next time" surmised a concerned Howard.

"Which is why we should nab them before they get the chance to level half of Sydney" concluded Lewis.




"Hey Coffee, why’s your balaclava looking different?" asked Williams.

"Because I bought it. It’s silk you know" reported ‘Coffee’ Harris.

"Silk?" inquired ‘Pizza’ Morretti

"Yeah. It’s real smooth too, unlike army issue" answered Harris. "Here, Pizza, just feel it."

"Why is it in Auscam, then, if it’s civi?" asked Williams.

"Oh you can get them in all sorts of camo these days as it’s the latest fashion craze" replied Harris. "I got another in black."

"Will you lot shut-up!" ordered Sergeant West to the others in his Australian Special Air Service patrol.

"Hey, Sarg," whispered Morretti, "Coffee has himself a silk balaclava!"


"Yeah, Sarg, it’s real comfortable too. Not itchy like the army crap" said Harris.

"Where’d you get it?" asked West forgetting somewhat the task at hand for the moment.

"I got it on eBay for twenty bucks."

"Not bad" agreed West just as a car was heard coming down the dirt road.

"Game time" announced the lieutenant over the radio.

"Roger," acknowledged West along with the other two SAS patrol leaders. Not surprisingly the banter ceased immediately amongst the other members of West’s patrol.

A few seconds later West could see a big black Suburban van coming down the dirt road. Within a minute, it had pulled up in front of a small isolated cottage, right where three of the four SAS patrols were hiding. West, peering from a well camouflaged position, saw four large men debus from the van. Although they were all wearing civilian clothes, their haircuts gave them away immediately. They were military. No doubt about it. And, by their body language, they were not Australians.

West’s patrol was on point. It was his call when the other SAS soldiers made their move, who were strategically arranged so that there was no chance of escape for the strangers, whilst ensuring that no cross-fire event could occur inflicting friendly fire.

As the four men moved away from the enormous van, they only got about half way to the cottage before West gave two quick beeps over the communications network. Immediately twelve SAS soldiers sprung up pointing their Steyr assault rifles squarely at the chests of the strangers.

"Don’t move a muscle" West said in a firm and threatening voice. "Stay right where you are."

There was no need for any other command or threat. The US Special Forces team knew they had no chance. Their leader simply glanced at West, saw the look in his eye, and nodded in acknowledgment. The Australian sergeant then signalled for four of his people to approach the Americans in order to process them. The remaining SAS men, meanwhile, kept their Steyrs aimed at their captives just in case they tried something stupid.

"We have them, leftenant" West reported over the radio. "No resistance."

"So I saw. Good work Westie. I’m coming down."




"What do you mean they’ve disappeared?" asked an angry Dubya.

"They didn’t report as per their operational orders this morning" said Rumsfeld.

"Can’t they just have a broken radio?" Dubya almost pleaded.

"No sir. It’s just not their radios, but their GPS tracking devices are not sending any signals either."

"Maybe they went for a swim" offered Jeb.

"Why would going for a swim have anything to do with it?" demanded Dubya.

"Well Australia has lots of sharks. They could have been eaten," explained Jeb.

"Popa was right. You’re an idiot!" roared Dubya at his brother. "God have mercy should you ever become President."

"Well, considering the American People elected you…" Jeb started to say only to be interrupted by Oli marching into the Oval Office.

"Mister President" Oli said excitedly.

"Where have you been?" demanded Dubya. "These two have been completely useless. I hope you’ve got something otherwise you’ll all find yourselves down at Gitmo before the sun sets."

"We’ve just discovered some intelligence, sir" reported Oli.

"Is this like the last lot of so-called ‘serious’ intelligence?" scoffed Dubya.

"Better than that, sir" Oli announced proudly. "I’ve found out what has happened to our Special Forces Team."

"Where from?" asked a confused Jeb.

"The NSA."

"Hey, that’s my department" protested Jeb. "You can’t steal stuff from my department like that!"

"Shut-up moron" Dubya ordered to Jeb. "What do you have Oli?"

"It seems the Australians managed to discover the team’s safe house" explained Oli.

"Well that’s obvious" mumbled Jeb.

"Go on" said Dubya ignoring Jeb pouting.

"We’re not sure how the Australians found out, but our team’s capture was ordered from ‘on high’."

"By who ‘on high’?" asked Dubya.

"By their Prime Minister" stated Oli.


"Prime Minister John Howard" Oli said in full.

"You know, bro, your mate Johnny" explained Jeb.

"Johnny ordered it?" inquired a wounded Dubya.

"Yes, Mister President" confirmed Oli. "After a top secret meeting, with his security chief, he signed a special warrant, or whatever it is, for their arrest."

"When was this Oli?" asked Rumsfeld.

"Some eight hours ago."

"Mister President," began Rumsfeld, "it all fits into the right time frame as we lost contact with the Special Forces team about four hours ago."

"Have the Australians made any contact with us?" asked Jeb.

No one answered at first. "Well don’t look at me" Dubya eventually said.

"I just tried to contact them about five minutes ago" Oli finally admitted.

"And?" inquired Dubya.

Oli did not want to answer.

"And?" prompted Dubya a second time.

"Well they weren’t too helpful with my inquiries" confessed Oli.

"Like what inquiries?" Jeb wanted to know.

"Like, could they please send back our lost people. I tried explained that they were meant to be in New Zealand, not Australia."

"What did they say?" ordered a frustrated Dubya.

"They told me to go have sexual relations with a sheep."

"A sheep?" asked a nonplused Dubya.

"Yes, sir. Then I said I was speaking on your behalf" continued Oli.

"And then what did they say?"

"That you could also have sexual relations with a sheep - if you knew what one was" admitted an embarrassed Oli.

"God Damnit!" roared Dubya. "I know what a sheep is! How dare these people. They’re all terrorists. I’ll make ’em pay."

"Was there anything else?" asked Jeb at maybe not the best time.

"Just something about wanting Vegemite back. Oh, and something in regards to a song about someone wanting to waltz Matilda. And the next time the US tried to invade Australian territory, they’ll open their own version of Gitmo and throw Dubya into it."

"I’ve had enough with this downunder craphole. Open the Football!" demanded Dubya. "If they think that their dump is the Sunburnt country, then I’ll give them what they want!"

"Ah bro, don’t you think nuking them is a little harsh?" asked Jeb.

"You heard what they told Oli. Having sexual relations with sheep is one thing, but wanting to throw my ass into some Ozzie Gitmo is the last straw."

"I agree, bro, but nuking them?"

"I don’t care. Get Air Force One warmed up and ready to go" ordered Dubya. "We’re going to war!"


Sneila Neerg Federation Territory, Tihsllub Sector, A Long Ways From Earth.


"All readings are normal, captain" announced the little green science officer.

"Did you expect anything different?" replied the little green captain rather sarcastically.

"Well no, sir" agreed the science officer, "considering the Crab Nebula hasn’t changed much in over one hundred million years."

"Just why are we here again, Number One?" asked the captain.

"We are here to observe the gaseous properties of the Crab Nebula, for some unexplained reason, known only to Fleet Command."

"So they send a heavily armed battlecruiser to do a science vessel’s job? Maybe we should be scanning the heads of the Fleet Admirals instead looking for signs of intelligence" the captain observed dryly.

"What the?" spat out the little green scanning officer.

"What is it?" asked the first officer.

"Commander, I have some very strange energy readings. Origin unknown."

"Put it on the main viewer" ordered the captain.

"I don’t like this, captain. Shall we engage the automatic defence systems?" asked the little green defence office.

The captain nodded his approval to the defence officer’s request, then turned to his science officer, "What is that white light? And why is it getting brighter?"

"Unknown captain…" was all the science officer could say before they were all blinded by an extremely bright white light. A second or so later and the intense light had vanished.

It took, however, a few more seconds before everyone could see again. Instantly the captain knew something was wrong. As he looked at the main viewer he could no longer see the Crab Nebula. A bright blue planet had taken its location instead. "Where the Hell are we?"

"Computer cartography engaged. Waiting on analysis, sir" replied the little green navigator.

"Captain, I think I know where we are…" the first officer began to say before the automatic defence systems cut in with a RED ALERT.

"We have incoming!" declared the little green weapons officer.

"Report!" ordered the captain.

"Some one hundred nuclear armed missiles. Primitive design, but deadly nevertheless" replied the weapons officer.

"Do we have enough time to engage?" asked the first officer.

"Barely, Commander."

"Then do it!" bellowed the captain.

The various weapons systems on the battleship opened fire without remorse. Although the combat computers could not feel the urgency, at the task at hand, they were nevertheless fully aware of the danger of the situation. The crew, on the other hand, understood both circumstances yet could do little else but leave it to the combat computers.

"Just out of curiosity, just in case we all die , where are we again Number One?" inquired the captain calmly whilst awaiting the outcome of the computer-controlled battle.

"To take an educated guess, I’d say we’re in low orbit around a primitive planet called Earth" answered the first officer somewhat nervously. "If you recall we lost a scout ship here some years ago and had to send a battlecruiser to rescue the survivor. I was Second Officer on the battlecruiser at the time of the rescue."

"Oh yes, I recall. The locals here are quite dangerous albeit primitive" said the captain in a rather laconic manner, ignoring the explosions around his ship. "I believe we quarantined their entire solar system after that incident."

"Proximity safe, repeat, proximity safe. All incoming missiles destroyed," announced a relived weapons officer. Several sighs of relief also swept across the other bridge officers including the captain.

After a few seconds of silence, thanking whatever divinity for their survival, the captain calmly asked: "Now, I know you people have been through a lot, in the last few minutes, but can someone please tell me how the fuck we got here?"

Just then the same bright light began to reappear as if on cue. Before anyone could attempt to engage the warp-drives or to engage their weapons, the bright light had more or less blinded everyone on board the battleship once more. And then, in a twinkling of an eye, the large battleship disappeared from Earth orbit back to its original location.


A Timely Intervention


"Mister President, we’ve got a flash message from the NSA" announced Rumsfeld.

"Put it through!" ordered Dubya.

On the main screen, in the President’s Cabin, the NSA supervisor’s face appeared. "Mister President, our tracking satellites have just picked up an enormous spaceship!"

"A spaceship?" asked everyone in unison.

"Yes, a spaceship!" answered the supervisor excitedly. "I told you people those little green aliens existed. So here’s proof!"

"What’s it doing?" asked Oli.

"Wait one" replied the supervisor. "Oh crap! It’s firing its weapons!"

"Excuse me?" demanded Dubya.

"Sorry Mister President, but the alien spaceship is firing its weapons."

"At what?" asked Rumsfeld.

"Checking" said the supervisor as he scanned the displays in front of him. "It appears that the spaceship is right in the path of our ICBMs. They’re destroying them with their weapons fire."

"Damnit!" roared Dubya. "God hates me!"

"I just hope they didn’t think that we’re attacking them," said the supervisor. "The last time something like this happened we had to destroy a multi-billion dollar KH satellite in order to get one of theirs."

"Why?" inquired an ignorant Jeb.

"Because they were giving us the finger, Mister Chairman" answered the supervisor.

"And no one gives us the finger and gets away with it" offered Oli somewhat sarcastically.

"Well those Australians gave us more than the finger" declared Dubya. "I want two hundred ICBMs ready this time. One hundred for Australia and another hundred for these finger giving aliens!"

"Mister President" interrupted an alarmed supervisor. "We’re picking up some real strange readings from around the alien spaceship. There’s this bright white light surrounding it."

"Was the spaceship hit by a nuke?" asked a hopeful Oli.

"No, sir. But we’re losing radar contact with the spaceship…" was all the supervisor could say as static replaced his face and voice on the screen. Before anyone could say or do anything, it seemed Air Force One was completely isolated from the outside world.

Yet the disappearance of the alien battleship was not the end of the matter for Earth. The bright light, which surrounded the alien ship, exploded, like a sun going supernova, and instantly enveloped the Earth. A split second later, however, and everything appeared to be normal again. Or so it seemed…


Time Command Complex, Echo Room, Earth


"Time Rupture Surveillance indicates everything is within tolerant levels, sir" reported the badly lit captain. "We show high levels of confidence in respect to the intervention."

"Good" the admiral simply acknowledged. "Now let’s see if CTT can achieve the purpose for our plans this time."


The Dawn of Mankind


Dubya looked around. Nothing seemed to be right. One second he was in Air Force One, and the next he was somewhere else entirely different. Dubya quickly looked around nevertheless to see if he could discover something about his new surroundings. Nothing, however, seemed familiar. But suddenly it seemed that he was in luck, fore he spotted some human shaped figures appear on top of a nearby hill.

"Thank you Lord, I’m saved!" said Dubya as he began to jog towards his rescuers. However, at about half distance he noticed something strange about them. Instead of wearing any sort of uniform, or even familiar clothes, they seemed to be wearing animal fur.

"Just great, hippies" Dubya grumbled to himself as he got closer. Then Dubya said, with some presidential authority, "Greetings my fellow Americans" 

"Eh?" the leading hippy seemed to utter.

"Hello. I’m President Dubya. Can you help me?"

"Uggh?" replied the leader of this Homo sapiens clan.

"Caaaaaan yooooouuuu heeellllp meeeee?" Dubya said slowly.

"Ugggha mullah ugg ah ugggaaahhh" was the reply.

"Sweet Jesus," pronounced Dubya with some sarcasm. "I’ve been rescued by some hippy Arizona commune."

"Ugg" the leader of the Homo sapiens clan gestured, pointing down the hill towards an encampment.

"Well it looks I’ve got nothing better to do for a while" Dubya muttered in a deflated manner to himself. "Here’s hoping I’m not going to be lunch."

Then, trying to make best friends with his new comrades, Dubya brightened up, "Say, eh, have any of you folks ever been to Texas? They have the best damned pot in the entire South!"


Cue the opening theme to ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’…


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