Lincoln's Illness

The state of TIAH

December 5th, 2006

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Alternate Historian's Note: We have a new entry from an old contributor, Ryan Hackel of the Ryanarium, as well as more good stuff from Stephen Payne. As we enter into the Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Insert Holiday Season, keep in mind those who need help year-round and keep yourselves safe and happy, as well. And, should you feel generous inclinations towards our guest historians, you can visit the sites of those who have separate ones from TIAH; generosity towards us here at the Academy is always appreciated, too, and you can find ways to help us out all over the site. Right now, we'd appreciate a lead on a good day job, but any good wishes you have towards us can be emailed here.

in 0, Mullah Elijah Rafsanjani has narrowed his focus to three main options in the town of Bayt La (Bethlehem). To cancel Christmas for good he has to either (a) intercept (b) kidnap/abduct (c) re-educate the baby Jesus. He never seriously contemplates the murder of an infant, considering it unthinkable. -entry by Steve Payne from Counter History in Context - You're the Judge!-

in 1863, U.S. President Abraham Lincoln dies of a varioloid smallpox infection he contracted while at Gettysburg. Vice-President Hannibal Hamlin's first act as acting president is to integrate the United States Army, stating "Every negro who values his newly earned freedoms shall be swift in protecting those freedoms and the preservation of the Union that guarantees them. Every white man in this country fighting to end the heinous institution of slavery shall be honored to fight alongside him." -entry written by Guest Historian Ryan Hackel of the Ryanarium -

in 1872, crewed by half of the men of the British Ship Dei Gratia, the Celeste sails to Gibraltar for transhipment of the cargo to Genoa as planned. One more mystery is left unsolved. In Genoa it is discovered that whilst the 1700 barrels of alcohol are intact, nine barrels were noted as being empty. Meanwhile Azâzêl slips into the Port of Gibraltar unnoticed. After enjoying a little shore leave, he intends to head for Central Europe. With a newly unified German state, there’s sure to be some action to be had. -entry by Steve Payne from Counter History in Context - You're the Judge!-

in 1919, work continues inside the Vatican for the great council of magicians. Two years previously the greatest necromancer of the age, Grigory Rasputin had used his final breath to confess to Maestro his demonic partnership with Azâzêl. The Council dread a confrontation with this powerful demon, but know it is absolutely necessary to deliver a final conclusion to the World Crisis; only Azâzêl can bring the four horseman of the apocalypse to heel. -entry by Steve Payne from Counter History in Context - You're the Judge!-

in 1990, Ilan Ramon and his Israeli Air Force squadron head for home from their pre-emptive strike on Iraq’s buried Extraterrestrial Technology at Osirak. From the clouds they can see a giant spider emerging from the drain-hole shaped shaped crater left by the bombing. The spider heads westwards at speed – in the direction of Israel. -entry by Steve Payne from Counter History in Context - You're the Judge!-

Before(cont.)
Kevin and Sergeant Morris hit the 6th floor and pushed the door open. “Where to from here?”
Morris set his end of the generator down and looked at the building plan he had from the mission orders. “OK, this hallway turns down there,” he pointed off in a dark direction, “and then we're gonna have to bust through a couple of secure doors into the main computer room. Then you get to do your stuff and I get to sit on my butt.”
“I'm so happy for you.”
“My favorite part of the job.” Morris picked up his end of the generator and they started walking down the corridor again. “Wonder if there was a generator in the building we coulda got workin' instead of luggin' this thing up here.”
“Now you think about it,” Kevin whined. “Maybe instead of sittin' on your butt, you can work on that.” Morris gave him a sharp look, so Kevin added, “Sergeant.”
“I'll think about it.”
They got to the first security door and set the generator down. “So, are we gonna shoot the lock off?”
Sergeant Morris took out a small tool and put it up to the lock in the door. With a quick, smooth motion, he slammed it through the lock, then pulled it back. He pushed the door open and grabbed the generator again.
Kevin nodded appreciatively. “Nice.”
“Army'll give you the tools you need for any job.” They were walking through an outer office. There were several dead monitors on desks, and a large bank of monitors along a wall, with some unidentifiable instruments standing around. They stopped in front of another secure door, and Morris did his trick with the lock-breaker again. They then struggled the generator into a large room that was filled with row after row of computer racks.
“OK, guess it's time for me to earn my keep,” Kevin said, finding the row of power outlets that everything was plugged into. He started up the generator and started hooking cables together. After working for a few minutes, the computer racks were humming and a desktop monitor was lit up, spilling light into the room. Kevin turned off his flashlight and sat down at the monitor. He pulled out the list of master passwords he had been given in his mission orders and started logging in.
“We got about 40 minutes till we need to recharge the suits, Bradley.”
“OK, just let me start a search running.” He opened up a few windows and typed in the commands to tell the computer to look for any files with the previous day's date. “Let's charge up. It'll be doin' that for a while.”
They walked out of the room and started back towards the stairwell. “This is a helluva better walk without that generator,” Morris said.
“Amen to that,” Kevin said as they entered the corridor that held the door to the stairs. He thought he saw something moving, and stopped. “Did you see that?”
“See what?”
Kevin walked over to the one of the doors in the corridor and opened it. He looked in, but it was just a small office, nothing special. “Guess this place is just spookin' me.”
“Don't start imagining boogeymen, Bradley. I don't need you cryin' for your momma.”
Kevin snorted and turned back to the stairwell door. He pushed it open, and just for a second, thought he saw something moving again. “Geez, this place is getting' to me,” he said, pushing forward.

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