Operation: Pacifica, Speedbump
by Commander Felton, TRES Corps (aka DarkSide)

        DarkSide idly scanned over a small handlink that displayed
  the schematics of what appeared to be a heavily-armed lounge chair. He
  looked up from the plans for the Ultimate Slacker's Arsenal at the sound of
  a slightly familiar voice. He turned around and noticed for the first time
  the very same Ensign that had delivered the message to him this morning.
  Somehow the Ensign'd presence had managed to elude his attention for quite
  some time. He chuckled to himself softly...the guy had to be scared to death
  of him by now.

        "Yes?" he asked amusedly.

        "Um...don't you think it would be safer if you watched where
  you were going, and, er, had your hands on the wheel, um, Sir?" stuttered
  the Ensign.

        DarkSide looked down at the wheel. "Naah.." he said,
  watching the Ensign pale a little more. He'd actually been steering the
  TARAV telekinetically for quite some time now, his attention half-focused on
  the road and bleak landscape ahead, and, much to his delight, his passengers
  were getting visibly nervous. Perhaps he enjoyed his mindgames a little too
  much...

        DarkSide grumbled for the umpteenth time today as he glanced
  at the clock. 1835. At the speed CP and Sam were cruising, they were
  probably already in San Fran by now. At the rate the caravan was going,
  they'd be there by about 0600 tomorrow... and the "landscape" was starting
  to get quite monotonous... several hundred miles of nothing tends to wear
  thin after a while. DarkSide pondered for a moment, and then reached over to
  the comm and flipped it on to open a channel to Admiral FoxGlov's TARAV.

        "Sir, this is Commander Felton. With all due respect, I've
  just been passed up by a turtle. Request permission to leave the caravan and
  proceed to San Fran at my own pace."

        "*sigh* It's not much of a caravan anymore anyway, seeing
  how several others have taken it upon themselves to go on ahead. Permission
  granted."

        "Errf," J thought to himself. "Some people just don't know
  when to slow down."

        Cutting out the comm, DarkSide gripped the steering wheel
  firmly. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking," he said in
  his best mock-pilot voice. "Please put your seat backs and tray tables in
  the full upright and locked position. We will be cruising at an altitude of
  ground level, and arriving in San Francisco at approximately 0100. Thank you
  for choosing The DarkSide for all your travel needs."

        With that, he mashed the pedal into the floor, listening to
  the engine whine as the SlickTraks squealed on the pavement, propelling his
  TARAV into the fast lane and out of the caravan at 140 kph, and settling
  into a comfortable 195. Okay, maybe it wasn't Sam or CP speeds, but it would
  be fast enough to get out of the wasteland a lot sooner. As he blew by J's
  TARAV in the lead, he couldn't help but chuckle at the magnet someone had
  slapped on the back of the vehicle-- "If you can read this, you're too
  close."

...

        "This is bad," stated the spongin commander, surveying the
  remains of the first roadblock attempt. Somehow a Jihaddi in a Big Car had
  managed to blow everything up. But they were back, and they brought more
  Jeeps and guns. The other Jihaddi were gonna hurt bad.

        The spongin troops pulled their vehicles back onto the
  roadway, in almost an exact mirror of their previous attempt. All that was
  left to do now was wait.

...

        DarkSide clipped along in his TARAV at an even 190kph, still
  idly scanning the schematics on the handlink and scaring the Hell out of his
  passengers every once in a while by releasing his grip on the wheel and
  turning in his seat to chat with them. The trip was a little nicer at the
  higher speed, if not still a little toasty... even with the A/C running. Not
  as if the heat bothered him, but he had to show *some* concern for his crew.
  Fortunately, the sun would be down before too long, and then it would be
  night... his kind of time.

        Something caught his eye as he gazed out over the blurring
  nothingness. Through the heat distortion he could see a magenta line
  spanning across the Interstate. Upon closer inspection using the TARAV's
  onboard systems, it revealed itself to be a rather large roadblock comprised
  of armed Jeeps. Normally it wouldn't have been too much of a problem, but
  these TARAVs weren't outfitted with the usual arsenal... confrontation
  hadn't really been planned for.

        "Damn," he muttered under his breath, considering his
  options. They had already been spotted, and the spongin troops were already
  flocking to this direction in their Jeeps. If he turned about, they'd be
  pursued. If he stopped, they'd possibly be captured. The best thing he
  thought he could possibly do was to divert power to the forward shielding
  and mash the pedal harder.

        "Uh, Sir... you're not going to do what I think you are, are
  you?"

        "Damn straight I am. Buckle up kiddies. This could get
  rough."

        The TARAV sped forward at 220kph, the line of Jeeps in the
  distance growing steadily larger. Several of the approaching group had
  already blown by, pulled 180s, and were now in pursuit. There was no going
  back now. DarkSide gritted his teeth as he braced himself for the impact.

        The spongin scattered as the speeding TARAV plowed through
  the Jeep blockade, sending vehicles rolling, and sending the TARAV skidding
  slightly out of control.

        "CRAP!!" yelled DarkSide, as the vehicle bounced into the
  air, and then landed solidly, skidding sideways, and finally rolled a couple
  times before landing upright again and continuing on its course.

        "Whee," he said sarcastically. "That was fun...."

        The slighty battered TARAV continued its flight down I-80,
  with a mass of spongin vehicles in pursuit, weapons blazing, rounds plinking
  off of the TARAV's shielding. A rocket whizzed past, less than five inches
  from the side of the vehicle, then impacted the roadway ahead, making a
  rather nice pothole the size of swimming pool. DarkSide's TARAV sped past
  the hole, missing it by inches, but a few of the spongin Jeeps more to the
  left weren't so lucky.

        DarkSide turned and grabbed his favorite Ensign and hauled
  him into the front seat. "Here. Drive for a minute."

        "What!!? Ack!!" said the Ensign, grabbing the steering wheel
  frantically.

        "Just keep the speed up," said the Commander, digging
  through his duffel and pulling out his PP-100m 'Puffer'. "I'll be right
  back," he said as he faded out slightly, his body losing solidity, and
  climbed up through the roof.

        DarkSide sprawled out across the roof of the TARAV, knees
  still partially fused into the armor to keep from blowing off, and
  huggingthe surface to avoid the constant spray of gunfire. Powering up his
  Puffer, he cranked the intensity to Full, listening as the power coils
  settled into a high-pitched whine. He lined up on the lead vehicle, drawing
  a bead on the engine block, squeezing the trigger slowly. A loud BWOOSH
  sounded, and a small ripple traveled through the air, impacting the nose of
  Jeep, which immediately collapsed in on itself, setting the Jeep skidding
  out of control. Another ripple traveled through the windscreen of another,
  hitting the driver and spraying his remains about the freeway.

        He gritted his teeth again and winced in pain as a 9mm round
  tore its way through his shoulder. "GAAAH!!" he screamed, clutching the
  wound. "That's it, ya whee bastards! I'mna gonna play any more games w'ya!"
  BWOOSH after BWOOSH sounded as cab after cab burst in an explosion of glass
  and blood, Jeeps skidding out of control and colliding, bursting into
  brilliant flowers of flame. The power cell was quickly drained from firing
  at such high intensity, and he quickly unclipped his MP5K from its sling and
  began to liberally douse the pursuing vehicles with lead, though having
  little effect.

        He winced again as another bullet tore through his side,
  further soaking his clothes in his own blood. "That's it!" he screamed as
  loud as he could. His duffel bag suddenly appeared at his side, and he
  reached in and withdrew what resembled a Minigun with four large barrels,
  with a large "Have a Nice Day" bumper sticker slapped on the side of it. He
  sat up on his knees, straining against the wind resistance, and he pointed
  at the first of the remaining ten vehicles and spun up the barrels.

        A rapid "THOOMPTHOOMPTHOOMP" ensued as his DM-30x4
  'Autochunker' spewed forth a stream of HE grenades into the cab of the jeep,
  which responded by exploding. DarkSide quickly swept to the next one, which
  promptly exploded as well, as yet another round tore its way into his left
  thigh, sending him sprawling across the roof again.  He growled as his
  'Chunker belched once again, swinging it in a wide arc, taking out five more
  vehicles in a blaze of unbridled destruction.  The remaining three vehicles
  suddenly peeled off, skidding to a halt, and the TARAV sped outside of
  effective firing range.

        DarkSide silently reappeared in the passenger's seat,
  drained and wounded, and tossed his gear behind him.

        "Shit Sir!" said the Ensign. "You're wounded!"

        "I'll be fine," responded DarkSide. "Just keep on headin' to
  San Fran," he said, shortly before passing out.

...

        He didn't wake up again until 0112, just as the TARAV was
  pulling up alongside a Kenworth at the Doberman dockyards. He checked his
  wounds and sure enough, they had healed. They were minor anyway.

        He grabbed his gear and climbed out of the TARAV, and
  watched as the rest of his group wandered off to stow their gear. He
  stretched, listening to his bones crack as he looked around. Funny, but for
  some reason he just didn't feel like wandering around the city. He shrugged
  and drifted up to the roof of Perazim's rig, where he sat and pulled out his
  sketchbook, to await the arrival of the rest of the group in the morning.

Copyright (c) 1996 DarkSide Studios (Kirk Felton)