Operation: Pacifica, Wave of Mutilation
by J. FoxGlov (foxglov@ksu.edu)




 "For the love o' Quentin." With only seconds to act, J judged the
  angle at which the plane would impact the ship and leapt out of its path. He
  held up his hands and concentrated, summoning wide wave-circles of
  electromagnetic repulsion in bright electric blue. He steeled himself,
  having never done this before; fairly certain he wasn't able to stop the
  plane from cracking up.


 The plane did respond, shaking violently as it entered the field,
  slowing in descent, the nose impacting the deck with a sickening *crunch*,
  skidding to a stop at the center of the airstrip. The plane fell apart from
  a seam broken across the midsection into the fore, housing the cockpit, and
  the aft.


 J slumped against the deck, catching a glimpse of the steam curling
  up from the plane as he went down, hearing the alert sirens go off at the
  impact. Crews flooded through the doors, the lights snapped back on, and
  suddenly the deck was alive with motion and confusion once again.


 Fire extinguishers carried by the crewpersons doused the plane,
  which amazingly never caught flame. Medics completely without a clue as to
  how to approach J's physiology hovered over his spent body, echoing the
  flabbergasted shouts from everyone on deck.


 "This could've killed us!" "Who was on watch?" "Just HIM?! How'd he
  stop the thing?"


 "Rrrf..." J sat up, waving his arms to shoo away the donut of
  people that had grown around him. He rubbed his muzzle, and stared at the
  plane, and the bodies milling about. He stood, and took stock of the
  situation, peering at the hulk that used to be a plane, and at the hideous
  magenta made apparent by the searchlights.


 "What's going on?" Captain Barton emerged from the door, gaping at
  the wreckage, first aghast, then furious. "Someone better start talking, and
  I mean *NOW*!"


 "Sir." A member of the watch crew rushed up, saluted, and pointed
  at J. "We were ordered off deck by..."


 "YOU?!" Barton was in front of J in a second, glaring up a full 8
  inches into his eyes. "You've got one second to give me ten reasons why I
  shouldn't throw your worthless ass over the side. I've got nine already, and
  the count's a-risin'."


 J barely acknowledged the captain, and pointed a finger. "Where's
  the pilot?" The cockpit sat empty, the hatch blown and the seat missing.
  "Looks like someone ejected."


 Barton didn't even turn around. "You listen to me when I'm talking
  to you, dammit! You are damned lucky I left my red hunting cap ashore."


 As if on cue, a great magenta parachute billowed into the path of
  the searchlight beams. Thirty startled triggerfingers pointed their weapons
  up at the paratrooper, who nimbly alighted on his feet in their midst, the
  chute draping behind him.


 "Hello to all my friends! Hoo hoo!"


 The ensuing commotion ended within seconds, the uninvited guest
  bound, gagged, and strung up by his arms and legs, dangling from a long
  metal pole held on two Dobermensch shoulders.


 J stepped over to the would-be pilot, and stared him in the eye a
  moment. "Here's a tip for you next time you want to do a kamikaze run: next
  time don't eject." He motioned with his thumb, and the two Dobes marched
  down to the brig.


 He took another careful second or two to marvel at the efficiency
  of the crew, and quickly surveyed the situation. "Listen up," he barked, "I
  want the watch crew doubled until morning, this mess cleaned up, and the
  wreckage sent off for analysis. We need to seize the opportunity to learn as
  much as we can. I'll conduct the interrogation of our guest in the morning.
  Until then, he is not to be harmed, and this ship is at full alert. Am I
  understood?"


 The crew stood still, a few glancing over to "Jimbo" Barton. The
  captain glared at J, having still not received any acknowledgement. He
  sighed, and motioned the crew along. "Let's move it. On the double." He
  turned to J again. "You and I need to have a talk."


 J finally turned and nodded to Barton, following him off deck as
  the crew broke from their rapt attention to their various duties.
  Lieutenants Richter and Andrews, having just emerged from below deck,
  hurried over, gaping at the wreckage, then at J.


 J turned and grinned at the two as he walked past. "The game was
  that fun, huh? No prob, we're okay up here." It was a lie, and J knew it,
  but he was having too much of his own fun reading the confused expressions.


 Chris Andrews, who had cracked his skull against the door frame for
  the thousandth time trying to maneuver his 7' reptilian body throughout the
  ship, was the first to react. "Oog..."


 "Don't worry," J called behind him. "I feel the same way."


 "Sir." Richter fell in step behind J as he walked below deck,
  yanking Andrews along by the shoulder. "What happened up there?"


 J was caught up in his thoughts, and didn't reply immediately...
  considering the lingering impression he felt just before the departure of
  his other visitor... that of relief, and a longing for his safe return home.


 "I have a meeting. I'll talk to you later -- until then, get to
  sleep.  I want you both in that interrogation room tomorrow morning at 9."


 Richter checked the time, his mouth hanging open. 2:30. Before he
  found the words to protest, J was gone.



- Next Morning


 *BZZZZZZZZZZ*


 "*HCKKSSSSSST*!!" Chris Andrews, enraged at having to wake up at
  such an hour, took out his frustrations on the alarm clock, crushing it with
  one blow of his fist.


 "Easy, easy." Richter grinned from his seat on the opposite bunk.
  He'd been up an hour, and was ready to meet J for the interrogation.  "You
  snore like a pneumatic steam drill, you know that?"


 There was no answer. Richter considered nudging the lizard awake
  again, but thought better after glancing at what was left of the alarm
  clock.


 *knock knock knock* "You two awake in there?" J's voice was muffled
  by the door. Richter sprang to his feet, giving Chris a rueful glare before
  replying. "We'll be right along, sir!"


 "What about Chris? Is he ready?"


 Richter hesitated. "He's... not feeling well, sir. All the
  doors..."  He trailed off, anxiously flexing his fingers open and closed.


 A pause. Richter was sure J would be in the room a moment later...
  but the moment passed, only the steps of bare footpads on steel floors
  followed. Instantly he was out the door and behind J on the way to the
  interrogation room.


 "Have a good sleep?" J spoke in his usual gregarious tone, which
  was curious for a variety of reasons. Richter wasn't surprised, he often got
  his own impressions about his commanding officer's method of personal
  presentation, and it wasn't unlike J to "sound" different than he "was."


 "Er... yes sir. Did you?"


 "Didn't sleep. Don't really need to." J turned down another
  corridor, and chuckled a bit. "Oh, did you catch the word on that plane? The
  techs said it looked like a kid's busy box. Not more than 6 controls, all
  bright colors and shit... who knows what they all do."


 Richter forced a grin. "Explains how spoungin can pilot fighter
  jets."


 J nodded, and stopped at the door, turning to face Richter. "Now
  listen. I'm running the show in there. You just need to watch me. I'm not
  sure I can get what we need."


 "You haven't done this before?"


 "Not with spoungies. Figure there's a first time for everything."


 "What about the Captain?"


 "I'm not interviewing him."


 "I meant... well, didn't you and he have words last night?"


 J grinned. "Oh, that. Yeah, he wasn't too hard on me. Not after I
  pointed out how if I hadn't ordered the watch crew off the deck, they
  might've been meat under that plane." He thumbed his collar a bit stiffly,
  shaking away a thought. "We ... eventually came to an understanding."


 Richter paused, and cleared his throat. "All right... so what
  should I watch in there?"


 J reached over and patted Richter's shoulder. "Just be there. I
  need moral support." He opened the door, and the two stepped in. The
  interrogation room was really an alcove next to the main engines. Only
  maintenance crews spent any time here, and they had been sent away for the
  time being. Two guards stood on either side of the spounge pilot, who sat
  staring at a panel of lights and switches. Reeling. Like spoungies usually
  did when in the presence of complex visual stimuli. The panel was wisely
  kept just out of reach.


 "Ooooh..." Drool fell on the floor in a steady drip from the
  spoungie's mouth. If he had heard J and Richter enter, there was no sign. J
  motioned the guards to step aside as he carried a chair over. He sat down
  backwards directly in front of the panel, and waited for the reaction.


 Thirty seconds passed. A while, but not atypical. J was patient.
  Eventually the pilot's eyes snapped wide open, and sat bolt upright, a
  horribly twisted grin appearing on his face. He clapped his hands together;
  feebly, with a minimum of physical energy.


 "Goodie! More friends to play with!"


 "Mm-hmm." J leaned onto his forearms, peering eyes to eyes. They
  all start looking alike, he thought to himself. Whatever color their eyes
  might have been before they got snatched up by the great magenta embrace,
  they all start paling; pale blue, green, brown, whatever. This one was no
  different, only his eyes were grey, and his skin was a tinge grey as well, a
  bit off from the normal cherubic pink of most spoungin faces. His smile was
  inhuman, wider than most TV game show hosts, his 12-year molars clearly
  visible.


 "You and I need to talk."


 "Oh! O-K." He giggled at J. "What about?"


 J smiled acquiescently. "Do you know why you're here?"


 "Umm... oh yes! You said somethin' 'bout kam-i... komm...i..."


 "Kamikaze."


 "Yes yes, heehee... did that... have something to do with my
  plane?"


 "Well, yes..." J sighed to himself, hoping this would be picking up
  soon. "We were wondering where you came from."


 "Came from? From the sky!"


 "Before you came from the sky. What before that?"


 "Umm... can't remember."


 "All right, let me back up." J's claws dug into the back of his
  chair.  "We're out here trying to find an island. You know anything about
  that?"


 "Umm... what's an island?"


 "You don't know what an island is."


 "Nope! You gonna tell me?" He giggled some more.


 "All right... you know we're on a huge body of water called an
  Ocean..."


 "Really? I thought we were on a boat!"


 "Yes, we're *in* a boat *on* the ocean. Now an island is a small
  piece of land somewhere in the ocean."


 "In the ocean? Like in the water?"


 "On the water, like we are."


 "OK."


 The two stared for a few more seconds. J was starting to get
  annoyed.  "So what do you know about it?"


 "About what?"


 "The *island*."


 "Oh! Umm... I guess I know about an island..." He perked up
  noticeably.  "Barney's there! He's my most suuu-per-deeee-doo-per friend in
  the whole world!"


 "Now we're getting somewhere... B'Harnii's on the island. What else
  is on the island? Who else?"


 "Umm... well, there's his two hap-hap-happy cousins Baby Bop and
  BJ... and umm... a whole bunch of our friends, and these..." He shuddered,
  then stared bug-eyed at J. "Other things."


 "Other things. What kind of things?"


 "Well... they're really scary. They're big, and long, and have all
  these legs, and arms... we stay away from them. They're the ... umm... Say-
  ee-three-uns."


 "Saethrians. Okay..." J puzzled at the word, but ignored it for
  now.  "Tell me more, like... who watches the Saethrians?"


 "Oh, the Lyrans."


 A nervous air fell about the room, and J swallowed. "The Lyrans."


 "They have pretty color robes. They're kind of scary too. You know
  who's *really* scary?"


 "Who?"


 "The one in the black robe."


 It was J's turn to stare wide-eyed. "Charn'El?"


 "Umm... I guess." The spoungie grinned a little wider as J turned
  away, watching him grow more and more anxious.


 J shook his head, pushing his chair aside to wander about the room.
  "Hurrrh. This just got complicated." He trailed off, mumbling to himself,
  trying to collect his thoughts. "Hamster..."


 "Hamster?" The spoungie turned around in his seat. "You know him?"


 In an instant J was in front again. "Yeah, Hamster. We're looking
  for him. Have you seen him?"


 "Ohhhh, yes! He's big and blue and pretty! He's nice! He's my
  friend!"


 J paused, shocked. "Your friend? What are you talking about?"


 The spoungie giggled, and just stared back. J dropped to a crouch,
  completely on edge. "Tell me! What have they done with Hamster?!"


 The spoungie reached forward and grabbed J's right cheektuft.
  "Foxie!"


 "rrrrrrrRRGGGHHH!!" J lunged for the spoungie's throat, his aim
  sure. Gold-scaled arms simultaneously grabbed J around the chest from
  behind, yanking him back as his hands closed around thin air and held him
  fast as he struggled. Andrews had decided to wake up.


 "Grraagh! Lemme go!" J thrashed, on the edge of WarpSpasming out of
  Andrews's grasp as he was swiftly carried out of the room. The giggling from
  beyond the door could be heard after it slammed shut and the two hurried
  down the hall, Richter close behind.


 "Calm down, sir." Richter's voice cut through the red haze
  surrounding J, who grew still. J's communicator went off, and Richter
  answered that everything was under control and J would be advising the fleet
  further later on. Then it was handed back to J, and the three stood in
  silence a moment.


 "Thank you both." J shrugged loose and headed down another hallway,
  calling behind him. "I'll be in my quarters if you need me. I need a nap."


 "But ... sir, you said you don't sleep!"


 A pause. "Never mind..." J was gone again. The two left behind
  looked at each other a moment, then sighed and headed back towards their own
  quarters.


 "Maybe you should've stayed in bed after all," Richter observed.
  Chris managed a tired rumbling noise in reply, but nothing else.


 Back in the engine room, the guards were getting righteously bored.
  "What about your frag count on the cume list? Think you did good?"


 "Well. Did well. Not good."


 "Who asked you, spounge?"


 The pilot grinned slightly. "You're not going to ask how I knew
  that?"


 Neither guard had time to answer before both collapsed over the
  backs of their chairs, overcome by a wave of nauseating sleep. The "spounge"
  pilot stood and whirled in a brief blur of sparkling magick, his flight suit
  swiftly replaced by a long pale purple robe.


 He stared at the control panel, waving his hands in a slow, precise
  motion. The lights clicked to life, and steam hissed from unseen corners.


 He chuckled to himself, pondering. "What a pity, poor humans... so
  easily fooled." The engines began to quiver slightly as the pressure within
  began rising out of control...


 "*crackle* Attention all decks. Land is in sight. ETA to disembark
  in 15 minutes. That is all."


 The Lyran mage snarled at the intercom, and turned to the panel
  again.  "Too late... agh, no matter." Grumbling to himself, he summoned
  another wave of magick, and vanished...


 Elsewhere on the ship, Richter and Andrews were hurrying to the
  surface. Or rather, Richter was hurrying and yanking Andrews along by the
  hand as the latter ducked multiple doorways en route. "Slow... down, man...
  agh." He finally took one step forward, anchoring himself briefly before
  shaking his hand loose, sending Richter off balance.


 Richter shrugged and ran the rest of the way upstairs and through
  the door. Chris followed, shaking his aching head slightly, trodding heavily
  up each step until he reached the top... glancing about the open sea.


 "C'mon, Chris! We're here! We're finally here!" Richter jumped up
  and down at the prow of the WolfBane, pointing between two other Fleet
  carriers. The view was incredible, Pacifica slowly sliding into view from
  under the morning sun.


 Andrews squinted and held his arm up to shield his eyes from the
  glare as he stood in the doorway. It didn't matter that the salty air stung
  his nostrils or that his head throbbed like an anvil chorus. The long
  journey was over. At this he could smile.


 The ship rumbled from deep within, and Andrews became aware that
  the deck was shaking. He found himself hauled forward and pushed aside by a
  flood of panicking crewmen, all screaming in terror as they ran on deck and
  threw themselves over the side.


 Andrews yanked one over by the arm, demanding, "What's going on?"


 The crewman struggled free. "Let go! The engines are about to
  explode!"


 A surprised "What?" was stuck in Andrews's throat as a tremendous
  roar erupted from the inner hull. A giant blast of flame shot from below
  deck, expanding into an immense fireball, tearing the ship apart in a fiery
  blast, catapulting the lucky few who had managed to reach the deck high into
  the air...



-tbc