Handcuffed
Clone x Reader Song Lyric Fic Exchange 2024
Wolffe x reader | 4.8k words
Content: swearing, mention of weapons, brief descriptions of explosions and injuries, some arguments, push-you-away-to-protect-you trope, conflicted feelings, both parties are too stubborn for their own good, slightly hopeful ending
Lyric Prompts/Inspiration:
Told my friends I hate you but I love you just the same. Even if it's handcuffed I'm leaving here with you. I can tell when somebody still wants me. (imgonnagetyouback, Taylor Swift)
His hand, so calloused from his pistol, softly traces hearts on my face. (I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can), Taylor Swift)
Note: Well hello again @ghostofskywalker! So happy to write another story for you, friend. Let's go with Wolffe this time, I'm feeling some angsty romance vibes with these prompts... hope you like!
Wolffe could be such a stubborn ass sometimes. You'd hate him for it if you didn't love him so much.
The ARC troopers of the 104th Battalion were currently lining up at attention in front of their Commander, their boots slapping against the newly waxed floors of the hangar bay. There were several dozen of them being called for this next mission, as well as various support staff such as civilian medics and bounty hunters and even a few Senate negotiators. They all gathered in orderly lines around Commander Wolffe to receive their orders.
You, meanwhile, stood off to the side. Out of the way. Arms crossed, mouth set, and eyes glaring across to Wolffe. If he knew you were there, stewing over yet another mission of being sidelined for no reason, he gave no indication, proceeding with his rounds as normal. As if you weren't one of the best GAR strategists this side of the Mid Rim. As if you hadn't been fondly adopted into the infamous "Wolf Pack" the second you arrived. As if you meant nothing to the hardened clone Commander, had never broken through his walls and gained his trust and seen how kind and good he was, hadn't shared several moments of vulnerability with each other and entrusted deep secrets and wild dreams, wasn't someone he had maybe probably kind of almost kissed that one time....
The memory caused you to squeeze your arms tighter together across your chest in equal parts annoyance and confusion. Wolffe trusted you. He cared for you. And he may even be attracted to you. He'd never said as much but you knew it in your heart of hearts. It wasn't wishful thinking. All the things you'd shared with him had been real. And yet, more and more he was pulling away, putting those walls back up and finding any reason possible to keep you off his missions. You had no idea why. He wouldn't talk to you, wouldn't look you in the eye.
You were over it.
"Commander Wolffe!" you addressed him as soon as he'd dismissed the troop. Soldiers and personnel hurried around the hangar to prep the ship for immediate departure. You made a beeline right through them, determined to get your way this time.
Wolffe, predictably, pretended to not hear you. He picked his way among ammunition crates and tapped at his datapad.
"Wolffe," you snapped as soon as you'd gotten yourself in his line of sight. A few nearby troopers jumped in response but Wolffe remained unperturbed.
"No, I will not be changing the mission assignments," he drawled, continuing to tap at his datapad without looking at you.
"Why not?" You set your hands on your hips and hoped you looked as fierce as you felt.
"Comet, get a recount of these thermal detonators. Anything over a thousand can be transferred to General Koon's vessel."
"On it, boss." Comet hurried over, glancing between you and the Commander uneasily before working on his new task.
Your hands clenched around your hips as your frustration built. "Oh, so that's how it's going to be, then? You're just going to ignore me? Real mature, Wolffe."
Wolffe looked up at you for the first time all day... all week really, but it's not like you were keeping track. He looked annoyed, which made you even more annoyed. You were not the problem here.
"I am preparing for a mission," he stated plainly. As if you were nothing more than a stranger. As if you didn't deserve any further explanation from him. As if he hadn't stumbled and choked over his words that one time you'd worn a nice shirt and let your hair down...
Just as quickly as he'd looked up at you, he looked back down.
"No, you're ignoring me," you huffed, stepping over quickly to snatch the datapad out of his hands. "You're not even working, just pretending... oh."
You glanced at the screen and saw a half-written message about a damaged crate. Your eyes flicked to the crate he was standing next to and saw it was, in fact, damaged, dented along the lid so it didn't close properly. Your eyes finally settled on his, trying to hide your sheepishness from him.
"So you can multitask," you shrugged.
"Give me back the datapad." Wolffe said your name with a sigh. It made your heart do a little leap.
"No." You held the device to your chest defiantly. Or perhaps childishly. "Not until you either put me on the mission or give me a good reason why I'm not."
"You're not needed." Again, another simple sentence. This was maddening.
"Not needed? I'm a strategist..."
"The strategy has already been defined."
"And what happens when it fails? Which it probably will, since I wasn't involved in creating it to begin with."
"Well aren't you so self-important."
His words struck a nerve you didn't know was exposed. He was the one who had told you to be more confident in your abilities. That your way of thinking was unique, your perspective insightful, and the GAR should utilize you more. You frowned deeply in response but couldn't find anything to say.
"Sinker, get the rest of these crates loaded. Take-off in ten."
Wolffe didn't take his gaze off you as he issued the order, and then stepped forward and plucked the datapad out of your grasp.
"And make sure this one's in our rear view when we launch."
With that, Wolffe strode away, leaving you with your bubbling emotions. And with Sinker and Comet, who decided standing beside you whistling about how awkward that was was more important than finishing their loading assignments.
"Ugh," you growled through their comments. "He's so... just so... Ugh, I hate him!"
You couldn't help but stomp your foot a little before marching off. You might as well embrace the juvenile side of your tantrum. It wasn't like Wolffe had bothered to look back at you. You couldn't figure out what his deal was, other than perhaps pride? Maybe he had come up with the mission plans and didn't want you showing him up? Or maybe all those things he'd said to you about confidence and ownership had been a lie, and you actually weren't that useful and he didn't know how else to get you to take the hint?
Kriff it, you were going to get on that ship and demand an explanation for why he was suddenly keeping you at arms' length. You'd choke it out of him if you had to.
"General Koon!" You hurried over to the opposite side of the hangar, where the Jedi had just dismissed his own platoon and was headed off elsewhere. He nodded toward you in friendly acknowledgement, though he continued on his journey without falter.
"Sir, I was wondering if I could be assigned to the Felucia mission? Specifically on the Conquest."
Plo Koon gave you a sideways glance. "I have put Commander Wolffe in charge of the Conquest assignments."
"Yes, and he's benched me, sir. Again."
Plo finally slowed his walk and turned to better face you. "I'm sure he has his reasons."
"And I'd very much like to go aboard to find out what they are, sir."
You could never really tell whether the Jedi smiled, but you had a feeling he was at least sporting a smirk of some kind under his facial apparatus. He stopped walking altogether and folded his arms neatly.
"I trust Wolffe's judgement and won't undermine his authority. He and I need to be a united effort on this mission."
You tried not to let your displeasure show on your face. Damn General Koon and his sensibleness.
But then the Jedi cleared his throat. "But, if someone were determined to get on the Conquest, they need only to give the boarding code 99001 to the protocol droid by the cargo hold."
He patted your shoulder and moved past you, on to his side of the mission, and you grinned after him. Bless General Koon and his insightfulness.
* * *
You timed your boarding onto the ship perfectly, not raising any suspicion or alarm bells, settling into the cargo hold moments before takeoff. Once you felt the familiar sway of the ship jumping into hyperspeed, you quickly picked your way through crates and crawled out the astromech service door. From there, it was a short jog through the various hallways to get to the bridge.
Along the way, the strategist within you started preparing what to say to Wolffe. You'd need to make sure he'd listen to you and not immediately throw you in some corner of the ship, out of the way. And you couldn't come across so angry that he'd put up his walls and refuse to communicate, as he was known to do. But also he still needed to know that you were angry, just enough to maybe feel bad. If he cared about your feelings. Which you were fairly certain existed. About 70% certain. Maybe not the ideal odds to hinge a plan on, you realized a little too late. Oh well.
You ended up coming across him in a hallway a few turns away from the bridge. You halted in surprise, and he as well. He was flanked by Comet and Boost and thankfully had his helmet on, as you could only imagine the displeased grimace that lied underneath.
"We need to talk," you blurted out, a far cry from the careful words you'd been preparing.
"What... what are you doing here?" he sputtered.
"As I said," you tried to keep your voice level but firm, "we need to talk."
"You violated my direct orders and... and... now you're putting the mission at risk." He was stuttering a bit, likely at a loss for words, having been caught off guard like this.
"Oh please. You already put the mission at risk by not consulting me. Which, by the way, I have some questions about the tactics being used, once you let me know what your deal is."
Comet and Boost were inching backward. Wolffe caught their movement and snapped his fingers at them.
"Get her in an escape pod and set the coordinates back to Coruscant. I want her off this ship as soon as we're out of hyperspace."
The two clones looked at each other with tense shoulders.
"Uh, I'd rather not get involved in this," said Comet.
"Yeah, I think we're needed on the bridge, actually," said Boost.
"Right, yes, we're needed immediately."
"You are not--" Wolffe started to say but the poor troopers were already hurrying away. He raised his hand toward his head as if he'd wanted to pinch his nose and realized there was a helmet in the way. He shook himself with a growl.Oh no, he was far more upset than you thought he'd be.
"Kriff. I don't have time for this. Just... get somewhere safe for now."
He waved a dismissive hand at you before marching off in the opposite direction.
On the lefthand side of the hall, a protocol droid was just exiting out of a supply closet. Perfect. You ran forward and shoved Wolffe through.
"What the f--"
"Wolffe," you said as calmly as possible. The door hissed shut behind you and you smoothed back some stray strands of hair along your temple. You were going to take a different approach this time. "Please. I just need to know... You said I wasn't needed on this mission. But it hasn't just been this mission. It's been a couple now and..."
You took in a deep breath, feeling a lump forming in your throat for some reason.
"And now I'm wondering if I've ever been needed. Have any of my plans actually worked, or was it luck? Did I ever really come up with anything clever or did I say the obvious and you spared me the embarrassment by pretending otherwise?"
Wolffe was silent. You stared at his helmet, imagining the handsome and scarred face within. Was your tactic working? Was he softening under there? Or had you only caused him to retreat even further?
"I'll send one of the shinies to escort you off the ship."
Retreat it was, then. Your stomach twisted at your failed attempt to get through to him. You felt silly, going through all this trouble of sneaking around, insubordination, pushing him into a closet... all for what? Validation? Or was it to confirm something else? That 30% of uncertainty that existed in the depths of your heart made you wonder.
Wolffe hit the button and the door swooshed back open. He stepped around you to pass through.
"Did you ever like me at all?" you asked quietly, and he paused beside you. "Or did I misread that, too?"
If Wolffe had an answer to that, he didn't get the chance to surprise you with it. First, there was the familiar pull in the surrounding air, the ship coming out of hyperspeed. Then, a beat. A mere moment of oblivious peace where you were just able to look up and find he was looking back at you. And then finally, chaos.
The ship suddenly lurched, throwing the two of you out into the hallway. Sirens started blaring and the lights flickered wildly for a few seconds before going out all together. Strips of red emergency lights clicked on, casting eerie shadows all around. There were frantic shouts and crackled comms messages going off between the siren blares. You froze where you'd fallen in a crouched position on the floor, one of your knees throbbing from the impact.
"Sinker, what's happened?" Wolffe, on the other hand, was still standing upright. He yelled into his commlink while looking up and down the hall as if the answers he sought were hanging in the air.
"Minefield, sir!" came the trooper's garbled reply. "Launched right into it!"
Your eyeballs felt like they were going to pop right out of your head.
"You approached from the north side of the planet?" you asked incredulously while picking yourself off the floor. Your voice was several octaves higher than normal. "Their defenses are stronger there."
"Yes," Wolffe sounded annoyed. "And General Koon approached with a fleet from the south, where their defenses were weaker. Twenty minutes ahead. They should've moved most of their forces to fortify by the time we got here..."
"And if you had let me in on the strategy meetings, I would've told you they'd leave a minefield behind to keep this sector secure."
"Like you would've known that."
"Of course I would have! They're operating a Class-VII Mine Drifter and unevenly dividing their forces between hemispheres. It's a classic MILDEC set-up."
The ship jerked again, sending you fully across the hall until you slammed up against the wall. Your bodies slowly drifted up the wall until it was no longer "up" but "on." The hallway was rotating. The ship was falling apart.
Sinker's voice came through the comms again and explained how things were looking. Half of the ship was already gone, blown off of the main hull and floating in open space with no chance of survivors. The remaining half was dead in the water, but thankfully still contained a means to evacuate. Wolffe quickly barked out his orders for all troops take the main hall down to the escape pods.
Wolffe was inches away from you as you both shifted to your knees on the rotating floor. His helmet was trained in your direction. You swore you could feel his sharp gaze penetrating through the plastoid like a laser. "You need to get to the escape pods. Now."
There was panic in his voice; no amount of helmet filtration could mask the edge in it. It wasn't like the hysteria you were starting to feel rise up from your stomach. It was much more intense and focused. You almost turned tail immediately to follow the order, but some sort of intuition kept you by his side.
"We need to get to the escape pods," you clarified. And there it was. Wolffe glanced behind him, in the direction of the bridge. Your heart sunk before he could even turn back around and explain.
"They'll need help navigating the minefield and debris if they stand a chance of getting out of here."
You shook your head in confusion. "What... what are you saying? Help navigating how?"
"From the bridge."
"You... no... No! That's crazy!"
You found yourself reaching out to grip his arm, to keep him from leaving. But he shook from your grasp with what looked like a sigh from the movement of his shoulders, though you couldn't quite hear it over the sirens that continued to ring out.
"I'm the Commander. I go down with the ship."
"Wolffe!"
"Please. Go!"
He shakily got to his feet, a hand braced against what was formerly the floor and was now perfectly vertical but creeping ever so slightly forward, soon to become the ceiling if you stuck around any longer. Keeping his hand out for balance, he turned himself around, careful to not slip or trip on the new floor that was mired with control panels and gaps for doorways and random objects that had fallen loose from their intended positions.
He was either crazy or valiant, you didn't have the time to decide which. There was no way you were letting him go through with this. Not when there were plenty of other options. You briefly wondered whether your previous concerns about not being good enough were invalid, given the circumstances. Wolffe was the one barreling forward, insisting on a noble sacrifice without pausing to consider alternatives. While you were being strategic. So why hadn't he been including you on missions?
But then a flash caught your eyes and you refocused on the situation at hand. Handcuffs. A shiny pair dangling slightly from the back of Wolffe's belt. A plan immediately clicked into place, though you weren't sure it was so much a plan as it was a desperate attempt to stop this crazy, stubborn asshole from pushing away from you again. Regardless, you promptly jumped forward, yanked the handcuffs off his belt, and snapped one binder onto your wrist and the other on the one Wolffe had propped against the wall. All before Wolffe could properly reorient himself to follow what was happening.
"What are you--"
"Come on," you instructed, pulling your combined wrists to accentuate your point. "Escape is this way."
"You know I can just unlock them," he said from behind you, as you had now turned and were trying to pull him down the hallway.
"I put the pin in my bra."
You hadn't actually, but Wolffe didn't double-check his belt, didn't doubt you at all. Interesting. Instead, he only resisted your tugging with a huffed, "We don't have time for this."
The ship lurched yet again, and this time you could hear an accompanying boom. Another mine hit.
"No, we don't have time," you said with a pointed look over your shoulder.
"The escape pods are no use if--"
"There's a pattern to how the Class-VII lays its mines," you hurriedly talked over him. Ideally you'd think through all nine of the ideas you had before settling on a plan of action, but in such a pinch, the first would have to do. "All I need is a visual on its direction and I can chart a path out of the field. From the pods."
"And the debris from the ship? How are you navigating out of that?"
"That's where you and your boys' training comes in. They don't call you the Wolf Pack as a joke, do they?"
You sported a playful smirk and gave one last tug on the binders. This time, Wolffe followed.
As the two of you ran, leaping over doorways, banking around corners, slipping and stumbling constantly, the alarms cut out and the strip lights wavered in their luminosity. But most inconveniently, the air grew stale and thin. It wasn't long before you had a harder time keeping up and Wolffe was the one pulling you.
"The backup systems must be failing," Wolffe said, slowing down so you could catch your breath. "No air."
"No shit," you panted. "How much further?"
Wolffe didn't answer. You could only see the shadow of his helmeted head shake as he rested one hand on his hip and kept the one joined to yours limp by his side. After you tried taking a few deep breaths to no avail, he then removed his helmet and placed it over your head.
You'd always wondered what it was like to wear a clone trooper helmet. Wolffe had told you once they were unique to each clone, more than whatever paint job they put on the outside. It shaped and molded to their heads, picked up their smell, became as intimate and familiar an item as underwear or shoes might. You hoped you'd have a moment to really revel in wearing Wolffe's soon, but first you needed to breathe.
It was instant relief to breathe through the helmet's filters. And though you knew it wouldn't last long while the air continued to thin, the moment of relief was ruined a lot sooner than you thought. Another sudden lurch to the ship, the hall you were now in tilting forward so you started to slide. You clutched at Wolffe's arm as you careened toward a doorway in the floor and tumbled through. The door opened and you spilled into the room, one of the dorms. Bunks had all toppled into a pile on the floor and now the two of you joined the mess. Various parts of your body were now throbbing in pain, your limbs all tangled in the metal bunks. You both struggled to get yourselves standing atop the pile, especially while you were still handcuffed, but the room was too large and there was simply no hope at reaching the doorway back into the hall. You were trapped.
One of your hands was bleeding from a cut. You pressed it against your leg, accidentally tugging at Wolffe as you moved so he noticed. He inched closer, balancing along a lattice of metal poles, and started to remove his gloves to put over your hands instead.
"This is exactly why I didn't want you here."
Though Wolffe was facing you, the room was far too dark to get a read on his expression. His voice, however, was laced with distress.
"Oh, this exact situation is why? Got it." You almost laughed. This was as close as you'd come to your questions finally getting answered and it sounded insane.
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean, Wolffe? What reason could you possibly have for fucking with my career and my self worth and--"
"I wanted you safe!"
To your surprise, Wolffe firmly clasped the sides of your arms as soon as he was done fixing his gloves onto your hands.
"I... kriff." He hung his head for a moment before looking back up. You desperately wanted to turn on the helmet's flashlight to see him better. "Things are getting worse. You know that. Every day, every battle. More loss. I couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you."
Your mind hummed as if it had just been filled with the details of a new mission, thoughts fracturing off into possible tactics and approaches. You were now 100% sure he had feelings for you, no margin of error. But instead of confessing to you, he had pushed you away. Made you wonder if you had been the problem. Put his men in danger by not using your expertise. Why hadn't he just talked to you? What would have otherwise been a thrilling thing to hear, that your feelings were requited, was now mired with a sting of disappointment.
You also noted a subtle shift beneath your feet. It could simply have been the bunks sliding from your weight, or it could be the ship turning again. You chose not to comment on it just yet, needing to address at least one thing with Wolffe now while you could.
"Why couldn't you have told me this sooner?"
"Would you have listened?"
"Of course."
"Please, you're the most stubborn person I know," he scoffed.
"Me?!"
"Yes, you. Just couldn't stay off this mission, could you." He didn't sound as upset at the thought of you being here as he had earlier. If anything, he seemed cheeky. You responded in kind.
"Well I had to handcuff and trap you in a room to get you to answer a simple question. So who's really the stubborn one here?"
"Ah, so this was all planned then, huh?"
You chuckled, an odd sound through the helmet. "Yep, you know me. I've always got a plan."
"Hmm. Got one to get us out of here?"
You smirked, though you knew he couldn't see it. "As a matter of fact, I do. Better hold on to something."
The room had continued to shift. Wolffe had likely felt it too after a while but you liked to believe you impressed him with your psychic timing. Though, come to think of it, he was probably used to such phenomena with Plo Koon. Damn.
You crouched down simultaneously, gripping onto some beams until the room eventually shifted far enough that the whole pile of beds went tumbling over again. You tried to lessen the blow to your body, Wolffe even shielded you a bit with his own, but ultimately you both were at the mercy of gravity and whatever cascading objects came with it. After a short time longer, you were able to pick your way through it all and reach the door, which was now vertical as doors should be, though upside down from where it was meant to be.
Now running along the ceiling, you were able to more quickly finish your journey to the escape pods. The helmet helped you breathe, and if Wolffe was having trouble without one, he didn't show it. You clasped each other's hands as you twisted around the last few corners.
When you arrived at the loading docks, there were only a handful of troopers left to board a pod. They had to be maneuvered to rotate around upright and re-dock before they could be reopened. The last one clicked into place just as you showed up. Wolffe insisted you get in first while he waited for his men to board but you silently shook your head. You would've insisted he board along with you, but you knew it'd be futile. Wolffe was right, you both were simply too stubborn. So you squeezed his hand a little tighter and stayed by his side until it was finally your turn.
You all but collapsed into the pod. Wolffe's helmet was ripped off and tossed on the ground, to be admired another time. The struggle wasn't over yet, of course. You'd still need to lead the pods safely through the minefield. But for now, for just a brief moment, you allowed yourself to lean against each other and breathe.
Your shoulders rested side-by-side and your faces were turned to gaze at each other, filled with exhaustion and relief. You glanced down at your hands lying between you, still firmly intertwined. You gave a small chuckle and Wolffe grunted in questioning response.
"The binders." You raised your hands up to show there was no longer anything connecting you two, except for your own choice to hold on. You had no idea when the restraints had fallen off.
Wolffe smiled a little and disentangled his fingers from yours. You were about to pout until he moved them over to your face, gentling cupping along your jaw and allowing his thumb to trace absently at your cheek. His bare fingers were calloused and rough but you leaned into his touch regardless. After a while, you started to wonder if his strokes were a bit more purposeful, tracing some sort of shape over and over as if outlining his feelings for you.
"We need to talk," you whispered. You wouldn't be satisfied with mere sketches on your skin, pleasant as they were.
Thankfully Wolffe gave you a nod in agreement just as Comet announced that all systems were a go. Your moment of reprieve was over and it was back into the fight once more. You weren't sure what would happen between you two afterward. Maybe you would finally kiss him, maybe you'd get back at him somehow for all the grief he'd caused. Maybe you would still hate him, maybe you'd admit you loved him. Regardless, there was some hope for more conversations, more understanding. And that was enough.
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Let's talk science. Here are my top 10 reasons why I reject the Nation of Islam's belief that the Moon was made 66 trillion years by an evil Black Scientist, who dug near the center of the Earth, filling it with dynamite and separating the Earth from the Moon.
1. Due the extreme temperature and pressure, it's virtually impossible to dig anywhere near the Earth's core. We barely had the technology to drill 7.5 miles below the Earth's surface before the drills overheated and broke. For the NOI Moon deportation belief to be true, without any empirical evidence, we would have to ASSUME that the technology existed.
2. Radiometric dating of the Earth, Moon, Mars, meteorites, in fact most of the material in Solar System, dates back to roughly 4.5 billion years ago. This is one reason scientists think our Solar System formed from the same collapsed cloud of gas and dust about 4.6 billion years ago. For the NOI Moon deportation belief to be true, without any empirical evidence, we would have to ASSUME the Solar System is far older ("trillions of years ") than the data show.
3. Archaeological and genetic evidence suggests the age of anatomically modern Homo sapiens is about 200,000 to 300,000 years old. For the NOI Moon deportation belief to be true, without any genetic or fossil evidence, we would have to ASSUME that humans have existed for trillions of years.
4. The object that impacted the Earth 66 million years ago, partly responsible for the extinction of the dinosaurs, released more kinetic energy than almost any other event in Earth's history. The Chicxulub meteor imoact released 100 Teratons of TNT. But it was not sufficient to overcome the gravitational binding energy between the Earth and the Moon.
In contrast, the energy released by the Mars-size bollide ("Theia") that separated Luna from Earth was equivalent to 8,000 Teratons. This means it was about 80 times more energetic. 1 Teraton is equal to the energy released when detonating 1 trillion tons of TNT. So, 8,000 Teratons would be the energy equivalent of 8,000 trillion tons of TNT. That's the weight of about 50,000 Mt. Everests.
For the NOI Moon deportation belief to be true, without any empirical evidence, we would have to ASSUME someone had the expertise, equipment, materials, manpower and facilities to transport and store this amount of TNT. Even then, it would take several decades (or longer) to produce.
5. Gunpowder is a mixture of potassium nitrate, charcoal and sulfur. Dynamite is primarily nitroglycerin and some sort of absorbent material (like clayshells, or sawdust). Moondust, on the other hand, is composed of silicon dioxide glass, plus iron, magnesium, calcium and other trace materials. No lunar rocks or soil samples taken from the Moon contained any trace of explosives, gunpowder, or any artificial, man-made substances whatsoever. For the NOI Moon deportation belief to be true, without any empirical evidence, we would have to ASSUME either a.) traces of gunpowder does exist in the Luna rock and soil, we just haven't detected it yet or b.) scientists have discovered but there is a global conspiracy to conceal it.
6. The impact craters from comets and asteroids bombarding the lunar surface have a frequency and distribution that's consistent with a 4.5 billion year model of the Solar System, not a 66 trillion one.
7. Tidal forces, from the gravitational interactions between Earth and Moon, are causing the Moon to recede from the Earth at a rate of roughly 1.5 inches per year. This is approximately the rate our fingernails grow.
Over the course of trillions of years, the gravitational forces would have weakened significantly as the distance between the Earth and the Moon increased far beyond what it currently is today. Eventually, this weakening of gravitational forces would have lead to a gradual reduction in the rate of tidal transfer of angular momentum. However, the geological records (preserved in ancient tidal rhythmites in sedimentary rocks formations) do not reflect trillions of years. We also put retroreflectors on the Moon during the Apollo missions, so we can use laser ranging to measure the distance from Earth to Moon with precision and the measurements are consistent with a theoretical model of the Moon being 4.5 billion years, not 66 trillion years.
8. Our Sun is a yellow dwarf. A G-type main-sequence star and is about 4.6 billion years old. It's age was measured by radiometric dating of meteorites, isotopic information, and from observing the life cycle of other stars in the Universe. Based on our understanding of stellar evolution, the Sun will exhaust its hydrogen fuel in about 5 billion years and become a red giant star.
If the Sun were "trillions" of years old, it would have already exhausted its hydrogen fuel, travelled through all of the stages of stellar evolution, from yellow dwarf to red giant to planetary nebula to white dwarf and, finally, a cold, dark object called a Black dwarf.
9. If the Earth were "trillions" of years old, then we would see evidence of that in the fossil record, archeology, geology, climate, ocean sediments, genetic, paleontology, etc. We don't. Everything we discover is consistent with a 4.5 billion year old planet.
10. Cosmic Microwave Background Radiation, the redshift of galaxies, the fact that the farther away a galaxy is from Earth, the faster it appears to be moving away (Hubble's Law), and many other forms of observational evidence (gravitational lensing, stellar evolution, nucleosynthesis) serve as signatures of the universe expanding from a small, hot dense state about 13.8 billion years ago. We would not expect to see, nor could we explain, these phenomena, if the universe was trillions of years old.
By Supreme Scientist Allah (facebook)
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