Operation:Pacifica "Go East Young Knight, Go East"
by ST

"Forgive me father/for I have sinned. Find me guilty when true guilt
  is from within" -Metallica, "Thorn Within" _Load_

"Under a dead ohio sky, Eleven has been and will be waiting,
  Defending his light,  And wondering... Where the hell have I been?
  Sleeping, lost, and numb.  So glad that I have found you.  I am wide awake
  and heading home." -Tool, "jimmy" _Aenima_

 The sun had risen and set over the island of Pacifica since the
  young Jihaddi ST had slain the beast known as b'harnii, among his kinder
  aliases.  Night had fallen over the camp where the majority of the Pacifica
  invasion force made preparations for the forthcoming assault on the Lyran
  fortress on the easternmost point of the island.  ST prepared as usual for
  any battle, cleaning and loading his weapons.  It seemed almost automatic, a
  little too automatic, he mused to himself as he scraped a nick out of his
  Lochaber axe.  He finished his cleaning and placed the weapon in his belt.
  He then threw the belt over a chair where his uniform laid draped over the
  back of it.  [Time to hit the sack *again*,] he mentally muttered.  [Wonder
  what wondrous dreams I'll have tonight?]  He disrobed and struck the light,
  plunging his tent into darkness.  He was asleep in a few minutes.

       He felt himself jerked out of sleep by a violent hand, but it
  wasn't on Pacifica where he awoke.  [Great.  *Another* dream sequence,] he
  thought.  "Except I'm not so sure if this is going to be the same ol' song
  and dance," he said aloud, in response to his surroundings.  Instead of the
  usual endless winter that seemed to serve as the perpetual backdrop for his
  nocturnal musings, he was now in a land that was just...purple as far as the
  eye could see.  [I don't like the looks of this,] he mused.  He looked down,
  searching for his weapons.  He had none.

 "he-he-he-he-he-he..." ST suddenly heard booming around him.

 "Who is it?" he demanded.  "Who the hell are you?"  The ghostly
  chuckle now escalated into a long and demonic laugh.

 "Well, if it isn't my new friend Sir Timothy!  That wasn't a very
  nice thing you did to me the other day, you know.  You should..."

 "YOU!"  ST slowly turned around and beheld the form of the Hell
  Wyrm, who had seemed to recover from his injuries inflicted by the young
  knight.  He stood about two feet from ST, with his arms folded over his
  immense abdomen.

 "I killed you!  I killed you, you shitbag motherfucker, dammit, I
  killed you!!!" ST yelled, out of surprise and shock.

 The Beast of Purple only wagged a finger in ST's face and smiled a
  chilling smile.  "I forgot to tell you something, Sir Tee-mo-thee.  I'm
  *immortal* and I'll be back in a few super-de-duper months!  Then, I'll have
  you slowly executed!  Won't that be fun!  That is, if my sttttuuupendous
  servants don't gut you like a pig first!"

 ST could only stand there in openmouthed shock.  The Great
  Backstage Fondler reached forward and roughly closed ST's mouth, causing his
  teeth to ring.  "You should be surrrprised," It of the One Tooth continued.
  "I'll be tormenting your dreams for the rest of your lifetime!  You won't
  even be able to catch a wink of real sleep..not even for a minute!  Your
  soul is mine, SssTe, and now it's playtime!  o/~I luv you, you....o/~"

        As ST covered his ears and yelled out, "o/~Maybe it's...just
  bullshit...I should play God, and shoot you myself!!o/~," (Note:TOOL
  reference:"Jerk-Off" _Opiate_) he saw the Hell Wyrm's sneering bravado turn
  to terror as the Beast fell to the ground and started convulsing.  Dead Eyes
  then vanished without a trace.  ST uncovered his ears and looked around.  He
  suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned around.  What he saw was
  impossible.

 The being that now faced him was about seven feet tall, with white
  hair and blue eyes.  His face was very much like ST's, rigid and square-
  jawed.  He was fairly lean and was clad only in a long, flowing white robe.
  He looked at ST, his face turning into a frown.

 "Aren't you going to say something, my son?" he asked.

 "F..Father?" ST could only stammer.

 "Who'd you expect, Ted Nugent?" Sir James retorted.  "My time here
  is short, so listen carefully.  I'm only holding b'harnii off temporarily
  with the aid of Schlee.  Now, you.."

        "How'd you get your hands on the swo..," ST interrupted,
  then faltered.

 "Front leaning rest position. MOVE!" SJ barked, as he ordered his
  son into his favorite position of discipline.  ST immediately assumed a
  push-up position, with his fingers supporting his body.  "Now if you
  remember, this is a *thinking* position.  And I want you think very
  carefully about what I have to say.  Understood?"

 "Yes sir," ST replied.

 "Good.  Position of attention...MOVE!"  ST stood up with practiced
  haste.  "As I was saying, I can't keep b'harnii away from your dreams
  forever.  You're going to have to become a part of the curse of Schlee in
  order for the Beast to be held at bay.  The good part is that you'll be able
  to do anything that you could do with my..err your sword without it.  The
  bad part is that you'll have to sacrifice some of your humanity.  But you
  really have no choice, my son.  Either make the sacrifice or the Beast of
  Purple will feast upon your brains for the rest of your long lifetime.
  Choose, and choose wisely."

 "I choose.." ST began.  "I choose...the sacrifice," he said with
  reluctance.

 "It's not such a bad thing, son," replied SJ.  "It happened to me
  when I was about your age.  Don't worry about it.  You couldn't be in a
  better organization for this type of thing.  Farewell, my son, and remember.
  The Cause[tm] is your life now.  Never forget that.  And never forget me,"
  SJ stated as he started to fade away.

 "I will never forget that, or you, Father," ST choked as his father
  faded completely away.  He walked forward, in a daze until he collapsed.

        When he awoke, he was back in reality.  He percieved that
  something felt different as soon as he got up.  He checked his watch and
  swore.  It was 0610 hours and the camp was beginning to break up.

 "Dammit, I overslept."  He put on his uniform and weapons belt and
  got the rest of his gear.  As he was leaving, a pair of Doberman troopers
  were striking his tent with great efficiency.  As he turned around to look,
  he was met with strange glances from the troopers.   He glared back at them
  and they quickly looked away.  ST sighed and shrugged his shoulders.  He
  made his way over to the headquarters tent, where he had been due about ten
  minutes ago.  He entered the tent just as Admiral J-Rock was finishing up.

 A sudden murmur started from the assembled, followed by fingers
  pointing and looks of shock and surprise.  J-R raised an eyebrow as ST sat
  down.

 "I hate to seem overly nosy, but is there something you'd like to
  share with us, ST?" asked the Admiral.

 "Not particularly, sir, why?"

 "Why then does it seem that you dipped your hair in a vat of White-
  Out?"

 "White-Out?!" exclaimed ST.  "Let me see a mirror..."

 "Bathroom's second flap on the left," shrugged J-R.  No sooner had
  those words escaped his lips than ST had sprung out of his chair and ran
  like hell to the bathroom.

 Once inside, he found out to his chagrin that J-Rock had been
  speaking the truth.  His hair was now a gleaming, almost glaring white.  His
  eyes had also changed from the light green he had been born with to almost
  an electric, deep blue.  He stared at his altered features for a few
  moments, a desire to verify something coming unbidden.  He turned on the
  cold water tap in the sink.  As the water ran, he stuck his left index
  finger into the stream.  He felt nothing.  He then swung his right hand as
  far away from his sword as he possibly could and then thought, as softly as
  he could, [Freeze.]  The flow instantly turned into an icy finger.  ST
  quickly shattered it with his right hand, restoring normal flow.  He shut
  the tap off and ran back to the briefing room.  He sat down again as J-R
  recapped the ten minutes he had missed, then proceeded by telling the
  mission plans.

 A few minutes later, ST was strapped into the back of a transport,
  heading east towards the barren desert that laid between them and the Lyran
  fortress.  [o/~And I shake as I take this in, let the show begin.....o/~,]
  he thought as the transport cut rapidly through the jungle and started to
  traverse the beginnings of the wasteland.

 The fortress awaited him.

To Be Continued

--ST