Operation: Pacifica, Darkness Rolls
by DarkSide (darkside@seanet.com) aka Commander Felton, TRES Corps (aka DarkSide)

        DarkSide grumbled as he gave the computer-guided lathe a
  good swift kick, and listened, half-satisfied, as the thing whirred to life.
  It had been about three months since TRES HQ had been blown to Hell, and
  things STILL weren't working right in the lab. Here he was, at 0300, still
  working. It was okay, though. He much preferred working at night anyway.
  DarkSide grumbled again as the machine sputtered and ground to a halt.
  Shaking his head, he stuck his hand into the coat that he wore like a second
  skin and produced a large monkey wrench, with which he began to beat the
  lathe liberally.

        "Few precision adjustments!"
  *****CLANG!*****CLANG!*****CLANG!*****

        "C-Commander Felton?" came a voice behind him.

        He whirled around, eyes glowing brightly and breathing
  heavily, scaring the Ensign half to death.

        "Yes?!!"

        "M-message for you sir."

        "Oh," said DarkSide, regaining his composure. "Thank you,"
  he said, taking the commlink. "Commander Felton here.."

...

        DarkSide found himself in the conference room at 0700,
  sharing the darkened side of the table with Lt. Sabine and Doberman Fleet
  Commander Samhain. Around the table were gathered some of the best the Jihad
  had to offer- Shardik and Windigo were here, as was Malaclypse the Seeker.
  Samhain had brought with him Warrior Hyperion Perazim and Trooper Aphrodite.
  TRES' own Rear Admirals Korth and Yearnshaw, Lt. Andrews, and Ensign Geier,
  were also here, as well as Lt. Sabine. DarkSide knew his track record was
  good, but he never really considered himself to be among *their* ranks.
  Soon, Admiral FoxGlov entered, and took his seat with Windigo and Shardik.
  DarkSide noticed something strange about the insignia riding on J's
  shoulders- they were those of the Second-in-Command. When CyberPyro stepped
  up to the podium, DarkSide snapped to attention, saluting, though spotting
  his insignia as well- he bore the marks of Grand Admiral.

        DarkSide's face sombered at the news of Owsen's capture, but
  work had to go on, and CP quickly moved on to the situation at hand. The
  lights dimmed, and DarkSide focused his attention on the holographic image
  of an island floating in the Pacific. As he listened to the briefing, he
  still couldn't help but wonder why he was selected for this mission. He
  shrugged it off.  Working in the lab was a kick, sure, but he could use a
  little in-field action for a change.

        The meeting was dismissed, and DarkSide returned to his
  dimly-lit quarters to prepare for the trip. He timed himself as he stripped
  down his Heckler & Koch MP5K- 11.5 seconds....slipping. He carefully oiled
  up the sub-machinegun and reassembled it, not bothering to time himself this
  time. Taking his coat off and flinging it on the bunk, he slammed a clip
  into it and slung it under his arm. He then picked up his "Puffer" pulse
  rifle, his first design after joining Zeta squad. After giving it a quick
  once-over, he tossed that on the bed too, turning slowly to the opposite
  wall. He walked over, and lifted a massive black sword from its rack. Even
  after all his years, it still amazed him just how easily he could wield a
  sword that was definitely not contructed for a man of his size...the thing
  outmeasured him by a good four inches, yet it was light as a feather...to
  him, at least. After a few quick slashes, he held it out flat in front of
  him, and watched it vaporize as it reappeared at its place on the wall. It
  would come to him when he needed it.

        DarkSide quickly stripped off his uniform, opting instead
  for a set of tac black BDUs. After slipping back into his trusty black
  trenchcoat, he stuffed the "Puffer" into a large black duffel bag, along
  with a few power packs and a few 9mm clips for his MP5K, and his toolkit. He
  hefted the bag over his shoulder and sauntered out the door, heading for the
  motor pool.

...

        He stepped out into the garage, hefting an even bigger load
  in his duffel and lugging a large ammo pack of some sort... he had decided
  to make a quick stop by the lab before continuing on to meet the rest of the
  group. He walked outside, noting with much dismay that the sun had decided
  to show itself as he slipped on his sunglasses. He tossed the load into the
  TARAV and slid into the driver's seat, turning to nod at the rest of his
  passengers. He turned the ignition, listening to the fusion engine whir to
  life.

        As the caravan drove along, he noticed a blur fly by that
  resembled CyberPyro, followed shortly by another blur resembling Samhain. An
  evil thought hit him and he turned around to his passengers, grinning madly,
  eyes glowing behind his dark lenses. He then turned and mock-stomped the
  gas, listening with satisfaction as the rest of the crew freaked out. He
  chuckled to himself as he watched the two vehicles disappear up the road,
  while he stuck with the rest of the group, cruising along at 55.

Copyright (c) 1996 DarkSide Studios (Kirk Felton)