Operation: Pacifica, A Joining of Hosts
by Commander Sir Timothy

 ST had been running for the last fifteen minutes or so, and his
  wind had given out.  He was fleeing not an invulnerable enemy, but an
  armored conflict that he was entirely not suited for, in more ways than one.
  He crouched behind a tree, resting and considering his next move.  He had
  already dispatched a squad of spongin intent on ambushing him, but he had
  been their comeuppance.  He had also eliminated a spongin couple, with the
  purpose of preventing the furtherance of the spongin race.

 [Where the hell is everybody else!?]  He had seen none of his
  allies since landing on the island, and he was beginning to fear for their
  safety. He wondered, [Will I keep running from conflict to conflict until I
  at last succumb?  Is this really all worth it?  What if everyone else has
  been slaughtered and I am the last Jihaddi alive on the island?] He sighed
  and shook his head, knowing these were matters for the admirals and other
  leaders to ponder, that is, if they had survived.

 Unconsciously, he started humming the opening bars to Metallica's
  "One."  [Stop that!] he suddenly and sharply told himself.  [This isn't over
  yet.  You're not going to hold your breath while you wish for death.  Did
  you come all this way just to give up like a pathetic coward?  Father would
  be ashamed of you.]  He stopped humming and looked up.  [If I am the last
  one, I'm not going down without a fight.  I'll take as many of those fuckers
  as I can with me.]  He slowly stood up, feeling his strength returning.

Music - Symphony No. 1, 4th movement, Johannes Brahms

 "All right," he said aloud, softly.  "Now that I'm not going to
  give in to despair, its time to get out of here."  He set off at his usual
  brisk pace through the forest, but he had not covered 500 yards when he
  started to notice the murmuring in his head again.  He stopped suddenly and
  put his hands on his head.  [Funny, I thought I got used to that crap a long
  time ago,] he pondered.  [Seems louder.]  He shrugged his shoulders and
  brought his hands down, continuing on, but the murmuring only seemed to get
  louder.  After about five minutes of increasing volume, he stopped again.
  [Wait a minute,] he thought.  [Let's see what happens if I backtrack.]  He
  doubled back on his path for a few minutes and noticed that the murmuring
  was decreasing in volume.  [Ah ha!] he realized.  [This murmuring has a
  source.  Time to find it and shut it off.]  He resumed his path, ignoring
  the increasing intensity in his head.

 After about a half hour, ST came upon a clearing, shaped in a
  perfect circle with a large white marble stone in the direct center.  The
  murmuring was almost ear-splitting now, but ST grinned.  He had found the
  source of this torment, he figured due to the artifical nature of this
  place.  He walked out of the woods and approached the stone, determined to
  find out what the hell this invasion of his brain was all about.  When he
  got to within seven feet of the stone, the murmuring grew so loud it was
  starting to hurt.  He grimaced and grabbed his ears, yelling in agony.
  Then, as if someone had pulled the plug on a stereo, the noise stopped.  ST
  looked around him in confusion.  [What the hell?] he wondered.  Then the
  world started spinning around.  ST held his head and yelled at the top of
  his lungs.  He tried to take another step towards the stone, but staggered,
  and then lost all balance as he collapsed to the ground.
  [What...is...happening..to..me..] were his final thoughts before he lost
  consciousness.

 ST awoke in a land of eternal cold and snow, quite similar to the
  one he witnessed in the dream he had while aboard the _Tsunami_.  Unlike
  that dream, he wasn't clad in a white robe, but in his uniform with all of
  his weapons intact.  He looked around, trying to find something, anything he
  could use to make sense of in this place.  After a quick glance, he saw that
  he was totally alone.  His anger began to surface and he began to snarl
  words to the uncaring blizzard.

 "All right!  Whoever is behind this whole deal, I want some
  answers.  And I want them NOW!" he shouted.

 [Thou hast done well, Sir Timothy of the House of Geier,] responded
  the same voice that had haunted his dreams ever since San Francisco.  [Thou
  hast followed the path to its conclusion.]

 "Oh really?  So now what do I do, pass Go and collect $200?"

 [Thou shouldst not be so sarcastic, Sir Timothy.]

 "Make me be.  Just who the hell are you, anyway?"

 [Turn and behold, and thou shalt see.]

 "Ok," mused ST, as he turned around.  "Let's see what you
  look...oh...my...God," he gasped.

 He saw before him an absolutely breathtaking crystal sword,
  embedded in a wall of ice that stretched to the sky and for miles and either
  direction.  The sword was about five feet long, he judged, with a hilt of
  silver with a deep blue sapphire as the pommel stone.  The blade itself was
  in the style of a medieval broadsword, but composed entirely of an nearly-
  opaque crystal.  ST could only stand there in utter shock as he stammered
  out, "You...you're....a sword?!  Good God Almighty..."

 [Thou hast forgotten whom I really am,] said the sword.  [I am not
  foreign to thee.]

 "Not foreign?  But the only sword that I've ever been in contact
  with for a long time was...."  ST finally understood.  "My father's sword!"

 [Yea, Sir Timothy, I was thy father's sword, and I hath been in thy
  family ever since it was founded.  I am thy sword now, but first thou must
  freest me from this prison that surrounds me.]

 "How may I do that?," asked ST, approaching the wall.

 [Thou must reach through the wall to free me.]

 "That's bullshit.  I can't reach through solid ice.  I'd need CP to
  do that..."

 [No!] snapped the sword.  [Thou hast the power.  How whilst thou
  know, if thou doth not try?]

 ST shrugged.  "All right, I'll see what I can do."  He walked up to
  the endless wall and tentatively put a hand out.  To his astonishment, it
  actually went through the wall.

 [Yes!] the sword exalted.  [Now, in thy mind, picture me in thy
  hand.]

 "Like this?" ST asked as he drew a mental image of the sword
  resting in his hand.  The sword began to tremble, but then flowed cleanly
  through the ice and into ST's hand.  The sword than gave a violent lurch
  forward, throwing both of them clear of the wall.  ST tumbled backwards, the
  sword flying end over end into the blizzard.  When ST stood up, he could see
  the sword disappearing rapidly into the distance.  "NO!!!" he yelled,
  thrusting his hand out and willing the sword into his hand.  He watched as
  the sword suddenly reversed direction and flew directly at him.  ST stood
  his ground as the sword slammed at high velocity into his hand. "SHIT!" ST
  yelled, surprised that he caught the hilt, and that there was no pain.

 [I did not expect that,] admitted the sword.  [I thank thee for
  remembering how to retrieve me.]

 "No problem.  Once you know the technique, it's a snap!" joked ST.
  He paused.  "Doth thou hath a name that I may call thee?" he asked, slipping
  into archaic language.

 [Mine name is Schlee, and now I must warn thee that when thoust
  return to reality, I shalt be rendered mute, except in thy dreams, where we
  doth speak now.]

 "But why hast thou sought me?"

        [I doth not have time to explain.  Sleep in heavenly peace.]

 ST collapsed again.

 When he awoke, he was on Pacifica again, lying down deep in the
  forest.  [Ack,] he thought, sitting up and holding his head. [That was a
  monster of a dream.] Then he saw Schlee, strapped in a scabbard next to his
  .357.

 "That was no dream."

To be continued in "Reawakening"

--ST