« on: January 24, 2018, 04:31:35 PM »
READER'S NOTE: The PUBLIC ADDRESS section at the end was broadcast all Netflix accounts.


THE BLACKSTAR CLOSED HIS EYES and enveloped himself in the cosmic energy of the universe, let it flow through his vessel and saturate his thetan. His mind retreated from the physical world and reached out into the great expanse, far beyond the confines of the meditation chamber where his physical self remained.

Layers of durasteel and hyperspace technology dissolved into the nothingness of space. He floated there, hundreds of miles above the earth’s surface, his thetan released from the confines of his corporeal form. He reached out with his consciousness and beneath him the earth’s blue glow faded. Its surface plunged into darkness and for a moment, there was nothing to distinguish it from the vast expanse of the void.

In his mind’s eye, an uncountable number of lights began to glow across the planet. Most dotted across the land masses, congregated together like nerve centers, with a fair number lightly dusted here and there over the oceans. Each light represented a human consciousness and their thetans within.

For weeks now, he had been searching the planet for one specific person: the traitor LEAH REMINI. The former Scientologist’s energy patterns had been taken, recorded, and stored in the Clearwater Archives during her many auditing sessions. The Blackstar compared these patterns to the thetans of every living, breathing human on the planet with no match. Somehow, he concluded, Remini had managed to shield herself from his sight.

To members of the Church, Remini was little more than a disgruntled former member and a nuisance to be silenced with court orders and thinly veiled legal threats. In truth, she was the leader of a secret organization known only as the Opposition—a group of rebellious former members of Scientology whose desire was to remove the Blackstar from power and restore the original doctrine.

Her recent activities had made her a greater threat to church affairs. Her continued interference with Fight 2 Win and the orchestrated attempt on his life were proof that she had grown much too powerful to be vanquished by the hand of Scientology’s legal team.

There was no doubt that Remini had to be silenced, along with the remainder of the Opposition scum and anyone else who posed a threat to his grand scheme. No more quarter would be given to his enemies. Earth was on the brink of of destruction. Climates rampaged out of control. Oceans threatened to swallow entire coastlines. Endangered species were being torn from the fabric of reality and consigned to the annals of written history. Mankind’s leaders squabbled and threatened nuclear holocaust.

The plight of the entire galaxy necessitated the rise of a true leader, one who could prevent the destruction brought forth by lowly, indecent creatures with no account of self control. The GREAT CATACLYSM was drawing near—the time when the cosmic forces of good and evil would clash in the final battle.

The wars would come, but for now, he had to return to his body and begin to formulate a new strategy to weed out Remini and her compatriots. However, before he could withdraw from dark space, he sensed something new on the surface of the planet—a clear presence formed of benevolent substance.

Energy radiated from the source like the halo around a star, so strong and bright that it was impossible for him to focus on it directly. It was a power like nothing he had ever encountered throughout the cosmos. He attempted to locate this beacon of light, but could only narrow it down to North America before the searing, burning pain became too great.

He turned away from it, no longer able to withstand the waves of cascading heat. As he retreated from the void back to his body aboard the starship, he contemplated the possibilities of what manner of being could radiate such a powerful signature. There were no answers, and this filled him with great concern.

CAPTAIN DAVID MISCAVIGE WAS HESITANT to enter the chamber. The entire crew was well cautioned not to disturb the Blackstar when he was meditating, but this was a serious matter that required his urgent attention.

“Supreme Leader,” Miscavige said with reverence.

The chamber was a cold, dark room situated on the port side of the ship. Though it felt cavernous to any who stood within, much of it was hidden in shadow, with only a small sliver of it illuminated by a single, hazy light calling down to the center of the room. It was there beneath the glow that the BLACKSTAR was found. Seated on the cold floor, locked in a posture suggesting intense concentration, he stared off into the blackness.

Miscavige opened his mouth to speak again.

“CAPTAIN,” the Blackstar said, shattering the quiet of the chamber. “You have a message for me.” He didn’t ask. He already knew the reason for this intrusion. He sensed it.

Miscavige as he stepped forward with a feeling of great awe, but also fear as he left the safety of the anteroom. “We have received a transmission…It’s unlike anything we’ve ever seen before. We traced the signal to the Tartarus Cluster, a mere 3.5 kiloparsecs from the galactic core—well beyond the habitable zone. There are no known planetary systems in this region.”

The Blackstar rose to his feet at once and turned. He ordered, “MOVE my ship beyond Earth’s ionosphere, Captain. I want a CLEAR SIGNAL. Once we are in position, TRANSFER the transmission to my PRIVATE TERMINAL.”

Miscavige nodded. “As you command, Supreme Leader.”

THE BLACKSTAR WAS NOT HUMAN. Though he appeared to have the physical makeup of an Earth-born biped, his appearance was only a manifestation of the will of his THETAN; a form itself created when it fled its previous host, specifically chosen to allow it to better interact with the dominant species of the planet.

He was most-certainly not human, but in this moment, as he entered the dim room that was his private quarters, he began to understand what it must be like to be a mortal man. This feeling was an emotion completely alien to him until now. A swirling, cold sensation that started in his stomach and then moved up into his chest, tightening it and making it hard to breath. Then his throat went as dry as the desert planet ORIDON IV and he struggled to swallow.

It was fear, the most human emotion of them all, that had crept its way into the dark spirit of the Blackstar, Supreme Leader of the Church of Scientology, and there was only one being in the entire universe that wielded such dread.

The hydraulic door slid closed and he was left there, alone in the darkness, surrounded only by the low hum of a starship’s sublight engines. He stepped toward his terminal, which immediately recognized his presence and powered on with an electronic squall. He immediately lowered to one knee and bowed his head in honor of his true master.

The mysterious transmission materialized before the Blackstar in the form of a blue-tinted holo of a towering floating head: gaunt and asymmetric face riddled with pits and scars; flattened nose with serpent-like slits for nostrils; thin, white, hairless flesh; sunken eyes filled with clouds of roiling black ink—what remained was concealed beneath the hood of a dark robe.

The Blackstar did not dare lift his head. “Lord Xenu.”

“My apprentice,” the once ruler of the entire galaxy said with a deep, resonant voice that commanded obedience. “Your search for Leah Remini has stalled.”

The Blackstar did not suffer surprise at Xenu’s awareness of his lack of progress. He said, “She has found some way to shield herself from my sight.” His voice was now restrained and laden with a grim austerity. No longer did he boom and shout dramatically. This was his true self.

“I have sensed a grave shift in the power of the cosmos,” Xenu declaimed. “A new enemy threatens to tilt the balance out of our control. You know of what I speak. You have felt it.”

“Yes, Master,” the Blackstar affirmed. “It isn’t Remini. It is something else. A presence I have never felt before…”

“The Scion,” Xenu said with utter contempt.

The Blackstar could not halt his eyes from lifting to directly face his Master’s projection. “You speak of the Prophecy foretold by L. Ron Hubbard—a being of pure cosmic energy, destined to destroy you.”

Xenu chewed the words before they slipped from his toothy maw. “The Chosen One. We must locate this Scion or he will be the end of us all.”

Impossible! The Blackstar could not fathom the concern of his Master over the insignificant ramblings of an dead man.

“Hubbard was an old fool,” the Blackstar mused.

Xenu’s face twisted into a look of disapproval. “Do not underestimate the forces of the universe that conspire against us. We cannot allow the Scion to realize his destiny. Find him, my apprentice. Find him before he can fall into the hands of Leah Remini and the Opposition…and destroy him.”

“It will be done,” the Blackstar answered emphatically. “I will not fail you, Master.”

“We shall see,” Xenu said with a crushing tone. A monstrous sneer uncoiled across his gnarled visage. “We shall see…”

At once, the hologram disappeared and the Blackstar was left alone in the room—tortured of aspect and pained of spirit—to suffer under the weight of his Master’s diffidence.

“How could you doubt me,” he said quietly under his breath.

His gaze lowered to his splayed hands. One by one, his fingers folded inward, creating tense, shaking fists. A tempest of unbridled rage stormed within him, congesting his every thought with poisonous enmity.

His eyes slid shut and he lashed out—not with his fists, but with his thetan. It wielded the unending power of the cosmos like a violent thrash of aggression with thermonuclear fury. The terminal suddenly tore apart and shattered into countless pieces of metal, glass, and wiring. Cracks split the floor panels and quaked beneath the weight of his wrath. The walls croaked and groaned, pulling toward him, buckling and bulging, and threatened to rip away from the support structure of the ship.

He was lost to frenzy and time slipped away. When next he opened his eyes, alarms were sounding.

The final sparks of a plasma torch finished cutting the door from its frame. The massive slab of durasteel fell forward and landed with a loud, metallic clang. A hiss of steam rushed into the room, followed by a handful of Scientology Squad Troopers. The armed force fanned out into the room, climbing over the destroyed remnants of equipment and furniture, forming a protective circle around the Blackstar.

Next came Captain Miscavige. Panic soured his mien as he rushed through the blockade of troopers. “Supreme Leader, are you safe—” His own breath was crippled in his throat and his body locked into an awkward, painful stance, as if every muscle in him had suddenly, painfully contracted.

The Blackstar was on his feet. His black mantle flowed about his battle armor, billowing like a dark cloud of corruption. His right arm was extended with his hand angled toward the captain and contorted into a menacing claw.

With but a thought, he pulled Miscavige toward him, toes dragging along the destroyed floor, until the man’s neck fit firmly within those hooked fingers.

Miscavige could only whine.

The Blackstar groaned with displeasure. “Never again will you enter my private domicile without an invitation—-” His hand tightened, provoking every fragile vertebrae in the captain’s neck to creak and crack.

“—or I will tear you limb from limb.”

Miscavige felt the hand around his throat release its death grip. He fell to his knees and caught himself on his hands. He fought for air, sucking in lungfuls then coughing them out violently.

“As you command,” the captain struggled to say. He cowered beneath the looming shadow of the Supreme Leader, weak and afraid of any further repercussions for his misstep.

The Blackstar felt a terrible desire to slaughter the captain, to rip his thetans apart and scatter them in the dark matter of space. Only his Master’s order prevented him from carrying out this cruel fantasy, for he knew Miscavige would prove essential in locating the Scion.

He recovered his equanimity and with it, eased back into his role as Supreme Leader of the Church of Scientology. The mask of deception slipped over his face, and the melodrama returned to his speech.

“GOOD, CAPTAIN,” the Blackstar resounded with the subtlety of a concussive detonator. His hands were placed firmly on his hips and chest thrusted outward. “VERY GOOD. Now pick yourself up. I have a task for you.”

Miscavige was careful to support his aching neck as he found the strength to stand. When he looked upon the Supreme Leader, it was with a slanted, unpleasant smile. His value to the Church must be great to have been spared a harsh, but deserved fate for his blunder.

Miscavige asked with a damaged murmur. “What are your orders, Supreme Leader?”

The Blackstar pointed in the air. “RETURN this starship to EARTH’S ORBIT. It is time to make my PUBLIC ADDRESS.”

“It will be done,” Miscavige uttered with crooked delight.

STARSHIP THETA’S PIRATE SIGNAL TAPPED into the Netflix user accounts, tunneling through a backdoor placed in the security system under order of new Scientology convert Reed Hastings. Televisions, computers, tablets, and mobile devices in nearly two hundred countries were cut off from their streams and redirected to a new video feed.


Supreme Leader Blackstar’s countenance materialized, staring into the camera with a severe glare, his face almost filling the screen. Carefully, the shot pulled away, revealing the great leader and the throne he sat upon, as well as the sinister majesty of the starship’s throne room.

And in an agitated, grandiose voice, he began.


The words echoed across the world. Men, women, and children everywhere began shouting at their electronic devices, smashing the buttons on their remotes, or screaming at their phones. Attempts to exit the video stream failed. Millions of screens had been hijacked.

“SOON there will be a NEW champion of the cosmos. One BEFITTING of the triumph of the seven celestials. One WORTHY to hear the HORN of BALTHAZAR signal their VICTORY.”

He leaned forward mightily. “Ask yourselves, in the WARS TO COME, in the time of the GREAT CATACLYSM, when the fate of the cosmos hangs in the balance, is it the SO-PATHETIC Natalie King you want to see riding into battle? Or the DASTARDLY Brennan Devlin? HA HA HA—NAY, CHILDREN. When the galaxy is in peril, you cannot trust these SUPPRESSIVE persons with the safety of its citizens.”

He tilted his head back and cackled like a mad man, rocking back and forth on his seat of power.

“FEAR NOT,” he proclaimed as his eyes locked on the camera once more. “In a few short days, a NEW champion will be crowned, one strong in the ways of the cosmos, one able to DEFEND this planet against ALL threats. And who will be that champion?”

He paused for effect, then answered.

“ME—The BLACKSTAR. SUPREME LEADER of the CHURCH of SCIENTOLOGY. COMMANDER of the SPACE CORPS. WIELDER of the STAFF of ZOLTAR. I will be the grand champion of FIGHT 2 WIN. I will end the terrible reign of the one called Natalie King. I will be your protector…and there is nothing anyone can do to stop me.”

He gave a low chuckle of amusement. “Not even the traitor LEAH REMINI with the full backing of AMC can prevent my ascension…Yes, Remini, I know you are watching. Watching and wondering how you might sabotage my plan. Know this, foolish woman, your time will come. I will find you sooner or later, and when I do, your suffering will know NO BOUNDS.”

He formed a fist and raised it toward the camera. “To those who have knowledge of this fugitive’s whereabouts, I offer you this—TEN MILLION DOLLARS and a speaking role in a FUTURE TOM CRUISE MOVIE. Deliver this information to the nearest Church of Scientology headquarters and be REWARDED for your service.”

He stood suddenly and marched down the stairs toward the camera. “And to those who would seek to THWART my schema, know this—those who do not pledge themselves to me shall be DISCONNECTED and DESTROYED. A NEW AGE has BEGUN. END TRANSMISSION.”

His terrible visage disappeared from screens. The broadcast concluded and Netflix accounts were redirected back to their original programming.