Operation: Pacifica, The Distance
by Admiral J. FoxGlov, TRES Corps

 "There it is."

 "It's... soo-oo beautiful..."

 "Eh... whatever."

 The skyline of San Francisco was more welcome than J would admit,
  in keeping with his "austere commanding officer" schtick. While the first
  leg of the TARAV's journey had been rather interesting, once past the
  Rockies and into the deserts of Utah and Nevada, the scenery had grown mind-
  numbingly boring for quite some time. That is to say, driving at speeds of
  over 120 mph in an all-terrain modified tank off-road except for stretches
  occupied by state troopers, it's possible to miss major landmarks.

 "Ohh-hh... you don't understand. That ride was... was..."  Richter
  was a little less held-back in his expression, even though considerably less
  verbose. Somewhere in his literally tripping brain there was a resonant
  delight in seeing the city limits. "... agh... we haven't even been past any
  small settlements. Since we passed those two tall... er..." He made several
  gestures in the air, to suggest the features, giving up after only a short
  while. "...well, whatever you call them."

 J squinted. "The Sierra Nevada?"

 "Whatever." The trip had taken most of the day, enough to give
  Richter the idea that he would *not* be volunteering for this sort of
  mission again...

 He scowled at the thought. Right, he hadn't volunteered. He'd just
  been yanked inside the TARAV right before launch.

 "Oi, look at that!" Andrews pointed at a spot just coming into view
  on the horizon. A large pillar of greyish smoke was rising from a spot
  where, even in the distance, several figures could be seen milling about,
  and another TARAV.

 J grinned widely and changed course, heading towards a small wooded
  area just on the edge of the city. "Someone's been waiting for us."

 Several had been waiting, not specifically for them, and more
  applicably, were just passing the time. Sheridan Iscarius, wearing a blood-
  spattered butcher's apron, wiped his hands and set Cinlach to the side,
  turning slowly to greet the arriving TARAV. "Well met!  We were hoping you'd
  show up."

 The three exited, surveying the scene. Dobermensch Troopers milled
  about under the trees, taking inventory, checking weaponry, or just
  lounging. An emaciated white streak whose identity was immediately
  recognizable moved at a manic pace back and forth from a table stocked with
  condiments, the side of beef, and a huge bonfire. Windigo whirled around and
  grinned fangily at the disembarking Corps officers.

 "Bar-Bee-Kew!!"

 J looked dumbfounded at the sight. Behind Sheridan, the fruits of a
  massive butchering lay in a vile-smelling marinade underneath a tree: a huge
  slab of beef in an over-size trough next to a sad-looking pile of hide and
  entrails.

 "Wh... where did..."

 Sheridan glanced behind him and grinned, unfastening his apron.
  "This? Oh, we ran into it on the way."

 J twisted his mouth and closed one eye in an expression of
  curiosity, regarding the front of Sheridan's TARAV, which looked as though
  it had been pushed in. "I ... see."

 Andrews fixed his gaze on the marinade, trodding closer, his
  saurian maw open, a few flecks of saliva glistening on razor fangs.  He
  checked himself, and looked up at Sheridan. "When's that gonna be ready?"

 Sheridan regarded the side of beef and shrugged. "Might as well
  start it now." The marinade dripped off slowly as the carcass was pulled by
  a telekinetic wave into the air. Sheridan's eyes flared as a long metal
  spike seemed to fling itself towards the floating beef, ramming itself
  through the center along the length. The now-skewered beef then floated onto
  stakes for support above the fire.

 He grinned at the amazed onlookers. "Give it a few hours or so.
  I'll help it along as need be."

 J blinked and looked down, feeling something drip onto his foot.
  He yanked it back from under the front fender of the TARAV. "Ew!"  His
  (ab)normally yellow fur was stained red with what looked like blood. He
  shook it off, immediately regretting haven taken Admiral prerogative not to
  wear shoes with hiw duty uniform.

 He bent down and peered at the vehicle's treads, holding his nose
  at the sudden stench that made itself known. The entire underside was coated
  with an inch-thick layer of reddish, putrid glop.

 "What happened?" Richter moved to J's side, mirroring his confused
  expression. J shrugged, and stood upright. "Not sure... but one theory comes
  to mind." He smirked idly at the thought. "I think we had a would-be
  saboteur."

 Richter made a face. "You're saying..."

 J nodded. "Exactly. Poor bastard was under the TARAV when we took
  off, and got caught up in the treads and suspended by the high speed."  He
  glanced thoughtfully at the unfortunate remains. "'s as good a time as any
  to earn a forensics merit badge. Go inside, get the field bioanalysis kit.
  I'll get some of the Dobes to help out too."

 Richter nodded and stepped inside the TARAV, rummaging around.

...

 "Bah. This is getting nowhere." Terrell Henry pushed himself away
  from the terminal where he'd been monitoring the journey of the Jihad to the
  coast.

 He glanced up at the clock, and noted his shift was at an end. He
  gave the terminal another glance, shrugged, and made room for his
  replacement. "Have fun."

 He thumbed the three gold circles on his shoulders that signified
  his rank and headed off towards the lounge. "Maybe I just need a Jolt." He
  grinned at the thought. "Always helps a mood like this."

 A vent blasted conditioned air overhead, directly into Terrell's
  face as he climbed to the upper platform. He scowled and headed on his way,
  muttering about how dumb a place that was to put the vent, and how it should
  be moved...

 The air blast seemed to deepen in pitch as he walked away. Terrell
  turned and looked up at the vent, squinting. "Wha..."

 His eyes widened at the sight of a thick black smoke which suddenly
  began pouring out of the vent into the room. He stepped back in shock, along
  with several other officers who had noticed. They all watched, unable to
  move fast enough to sound alert. Within seconds the smoke shifted,
  congealed, took form... and all at once was no longer smoke, but a menacing
  demonic form of eerie black.

 Henry felt amber eyes burn through his mind. Painful, though the
  sensation didn't come from his reaction, he could tell. His thoughts became
  a jumble, time slowing in the agonizing moments he was forced to view; dark
  blue and black on a giant hulk of raw power carried on great wings,
  desperate, searching, needing an answer, a feeling of being lifted by force,
  a terrible voice crying out, demanding to know.

 Then falling... another loud scream, and then a blur of commotion.

 "S...shit..."

 "Is he all right?"

 "What *was* that thing?!"

 "Terrell! C'mon, buddy, wake up."

 "Someone get a stretcher!"

 Uniforms in a blur, others crowding around, confused, slapping his
  face. One trying to listen, have to let them know...

 "Get back! Get back, give him room here!"

 "What? Say it again, Terrell..."

 A pause, then being lifted and carried away again... hearing the
  voices trail off down the corridor.

 "C'mon, what was it? What did that thing say to him?"

 "He... just said... 'Where is he?'"

...

 J pointed a sauce-stained finger at Sheridan. "You da man."

 Sheridan merely raised his eyes, which grinned of their own accord
  from behind a half-eaten stack of ribs. He didn't want to cut into eating
  time by talking.

 J gave a smirk and returned to his own plate, feeling a little
  foolish in the presence of a much more proficient eater. He looked down,
  reaching for another bone to gnaw on.

 *splat*

 "Nnggn..." J disregarded his plate as it fell off his lap, suddenly
  aware of a sting piercing his mind. His eyes slammed shut, then widened as
  he tried to blink it away.

 Richter managed to tear himself away from eating. "Sir. J. Are you
  all right?"

 J held up his hand, furrowed his brow, and shook his head sharply.
  "Rrrf. Ah... yeah." He blinked a few more times. "Nothing... nothing that
  *whew* hasn't happened before."

 Richter nodded, unassured, then turned at the sound of a
  communicator sounding off. Windigo growled, obviously annoyed by having to
  drop her ravenous consumption. She hooked one knifeblade claw under the
  strap, letting it dangle in front of her face, and gave a frustrated hiss as
  acknowledgement.

 Her ears immediately perked, and her hard expression softened to
  embarrassment. "Yes. On our way, we are. Out." She gave a short sigh and
  nonchalantly sidearmed the communicator into the open TARAV door, letting
  her claw slice through the strap.

 She stood and immediately reassumed the presence of a DE Commander.
  "Must go. Ships are leaving. As in *now*. Dobermensch, MOVE!"

 J had regained his composure by this point, and began waving some
  of the DE troops over. Andrews and Richter made room as planned, to put less
  strain on the other vehicle. J hopped in the driver's seat and got ready to
  take off again.

 "Oh... sir?"

 J looked behind him. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

 Richter nodded. "Just thought you'd like to see the readings from
  the remains. We were able to put together a composite and a profile.  There
  were two of them, we found out.

 "Anyone we know?"

 Richter checked the e-pad again. "Don't think so, sir."

 J pondered the briefest of seconds, then shook his head and threw
  the TARAV into overdrive. "No need. Just keep 'em on file."

 Richter nodded, straining to keep balance in the crowded vehicle.
  "Think we'll ever find out who they were?"

 "Maybe... maybe not. Probably just two spongies." He grinned
  slightly. Two dead ones, at that. Who cares who they were?"

 The TARAVs headed towards the docks to meet the Dobe fleet. About
  2000 miles east of them, two admins for the Kansas State University still
  hadn't clocked in...

To be continued.