Operation Pacifica: Racing Lyra
by Admiral J-Rock, TRES Corps


"Running...    On our way Hiding...     You will pay Dying...      A thousand
  deaths" -- Metallica, "Seek And Destroy"



PLACE UNKNOWN
TIME UNKNOWN, BUT DEFINITELY AROUND DAY THIRTEEN OF OPERATION PACIFICA


 A volcanic plain of almost pure obsidian stretched out before the intrepid
  band of Maenads as they made their way toward the tower that loomed on the
  horizon. But, true to everything else about Pacifica Island, the going only
  -looked- easy. The sheer darkness of the place -- both from the terrain and
  the poor lighting -- concealed huge fissures, which were more often than
  not found by somebody coming to a sudden stop inches from a yawning abyss.
  The need for caution stretched already taut nerves among the Maenads, and
  more than a few were close to fraying.


 Deadlock noted as he indicated a widening strip of nagenta on the horizon
  behind the party, "You'll be pleased to know we have an audience."


 Shardik stared for a bit before shouting, "Run! There's at least a thousand
  thanatins in that mass!"


 "'Aven't I seen dis show before?" Slider muttered as he joined the rest of
  the Maenads in a run for the hills, as if hills were to be found in this
  hellish landscape. In fact, the placement of the fissures was doing more to
  hinder than to help, cutting off possible escape routes.


 "Being herded like cattle, we are," Blackblood observed sourly.


 Slider glanced to his left, only to see another mass of thanatins come
  barrelling towards them, joining in the chase. Pointing this new would-be
  ass whuppin' lynch mob out, he added, "From a kupula uv direktshuns."


 "Citadel it is, then," Nemesis grumbled as the pursued turned their frantic
  steps toward the tower.
 

 After about fifteen minutes of this, the Maenads were no closer to the tower
  than when they had started running. The blatant defiance of physics by the
  extra-dimensional space was playing an elaborate practical joke on them, as
  shown by the citadel steadfastly refusing to grow in size as they ran
  towards it. And this joke had a potentially deadly punch line in the form
  of thousands of bloodthirsty thanatins hooting, hollering, baying at the
  moon, and generally looking for all the world like an indigenous tribal
  warband hyped up on combat drugs. Some were even cocky enough to start
  lobbing spears. The Maenads avoided these easily, but the effort wasn't
  doing wonders for their collective state of mind.


 As if to further rub in the feelings of despair, a vast, wide chasm about
  the size of the San Andreas Fault came into view. Oddly enough, it was
  coming closer as the Maenads ran toward it, giving them a needed frame of
  reference in an environment that otherwise lacked one.


 Slider was reaching the limit of his endurance. His lungs felt as if they
  were aflame, while his legs seemed to take on the qualities of rubber. And
  there were far too many of these beasties behind them to stand and fight.
  The redcap Maenad considered his options, and decided on one.  It would
  take a substantial chunk of Glamour to pull off, but what use would he have
  for it if the horde caught him?


 Then they were upon the edge of the precipice in what seemed like an
  eyeblink. Without breaking his stride, Shardik shifted to his demon form,
  grabbed Windigo, and dove down into the chasm. As everybody else skidded to
  a halt, Slider dug into a cargo pocket in his pants and pulled out three
  Hershey bars that had miraclously survived the fighting. He didn't even
  bother with the wrappers as he raised all three to his mouth, preparing to
  wolf them down. In so doing, he'd activate his super jumping cantrip and
  leap over the chasm.


 Except that Nemesis wasn't even bothering to stop either. He barged into
  Slider just as the latter was putting the candy bars in his mouth,
  eliciting a muffled "uff" as Nemesis turned his charge into a tackle and
  sent both Maenads over the edge.


 "NEMESIS, YA IDIOT!!!!!!" Slider swore as the blackness swallowed them both.


MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE CHOSEN ENCAMPMENT...



 "J-Rock Kithain," Damon intoned, as if he'd heard something as outrageous
  and unbelievable as 'CyberPyro wants you to bring back fifteen wild ferrets
  before breakfast'.


 "I have seen an oak before an acorn..." Gideon began, reciting a changeling
  proverb.


 "But always a changeling before the Chrysalis," Ellison finished, his
  penchant for lying mangling the saying. Fortunately for him, the rest of
  the assembled Kithain could understand pooka-speak, and knew exactly what
  he meant.


 "What we're at a loss for is how he Chrysalized," Deirdre noted.  "Sure, it
  explains the massive outpouring of Glamour we felt a couple of days ago.
  But with J-Rock and Brother Adolfo nowhere to be found, there's not much
  more information to be had." The squad had sent their pointman to
  investigate the disturbance, and he had failed to return. By the time they
  pinpointed the Glamour spike, they had more than enough of their own
  problems as three Saethrians had set upon them. Despite all the setbacks,
  they didn't worry about Adolfo. Only death could keep him from eventually
  finding his way back to the squad, no matter where they were. It was a gift
  he had.


 "Not much we can do now except gear up to take another crack at some
  thanatins," Damon declared.


 From what they could piece together from a more careful debriefing of Siona,
  finding out J-Rock's kith was easier by an order of magnitude. Only a
  redcap could have blood-red hair. The news pleased the other redcaps to no
  end, as they now had one of their own who was actually in charge of
  something. This would be the best piece of news the Chosen's redcap
  community had heard since the bit about the sidhe renouncing their ties to
  humanity and joining the Eldar in the wake of the Second Shattering (an
  event which touched off a period historians of the 41st millenium would
  later call the Age of Strife).


 If only such news could help them deal with the sidhe of this day and age.
  Gideon, like many in the Chosen, had seen some of the games played by the
  Seelie, Unseelie, and Shadow Courts after Khorne had brought them to this
  timeframe and had decided the only winning move was not to play.  Which
  annoyed the sidhe to no end, as they hate it when people are unimpressed
  with their "authority." Some in the Shadow Court had even tried to have
  them eliminated, thinking if they couldn't control them, then no-one would.
  The assassins made for acceptable sacrifices to the Blood God...


WHILE THAT WAS GOING ON...



 On the other side of the chasm, Hanover peeled himself off the obsidian
  ground and shook his head. His fur was hopelessly windblown, the result of
  being tossed across the chasm like a javelin by Deadlock. For some strange
  reason, the rest of the Maenads had made it to the other side of the chasm,
  despite having been tackled or diving into it.


 Off in the distance, faint shouting could be heard as the thanatins tossed
  spears down into the abyss.


 "So, 'ow long do ya tink dey're gonna throw spears before dey realize we're
  not at da bottom?" Slider asked with a smirk.
 

 Windigo replied, "Not willing to wait around for an answer, I am."


 The Maenads ambled off toward the Citadel without another word.


 The tent flap flew open to admit a swarthy Hispanic man in battered red and
  brass battle armor, carrying a handful of overstuffed plastic grocery bags.
  "Ok, who wants Ding-Dongs?" he asked as he lifted the bags.


 "Brother Adolfo!" exclaimed Ellison in a welcoming tone. "Get lost!"


 "Morbid curiosity is making me wonder how you found a decent snack shop on
  this island," Gideon added.


 "I didn't," Adolfo replied. "Had to go to Atlanta to get these. Ran into the
  most interesting woman there. Called herself the 'Silver Rose.'"


 "Did you say, 'Atlanta?'" Fiona asked, not entirely sure if she ought to
  believe the eshu.


 "Yes," Adolfo replied. "It all started with me getting knocked into the
  lagoon and meeting up with this pod of dolphin pooka..."


 Damon rolled his eyes in an Oh-sneck-here-we-go-again! manner.
 

AND THEN...


 "Just our lukk," Slider noted sourly. "All dis walkin' an' we still ain't at
  da front door." They had come upon an architechural marvel that could only
  be possible with magic: hundred-foot square blocks of obsidian composing
  the tower's structure with the seams barely visible, with large balefires
  spaced evenly around the structure for lighting (black on black, of
  course). There were even obsidian -trees- planted around the tower's base
  for aesthetics, swaying in the breeze.


 After a few hours of walking around the tower's base, the Maenads finally
  reached the front gates. The main arch was so high that the crest was
  obscured by clouds. Unfortunately, finding the gates after hours of walking
  accompanied by that it's-too-quiet feeling had stretched worn nerves to the
  breaking point.


 Jace made a sarcastic remark, followed by more from Hanover and Deadlock.
  Shardik mentioned something about clawing into each other's hides being
  unproductive. All Deadlock and Blackblood heard was 'clawing into each
  other's hides', and tempers flared.


 Finally Windigo had had enough. "No more!" she shouted. "Not here to kill
  each other, we are! None of this! Kill the High Mage we must! We are all
  dead, if this thing, we do not accomplish!"


 "And how correct, to say completely without error, is my most astute, lilial
  atshen!" quipped a smoothly polished British voice. It would have been
  comical had the Maenads not already associated such a voice with one type
  of beastie:


 "MENSAn!" Nemesis grumbled.


 "Finally!" Slider shouted as ER PPC and Claws (tm) slipped their respective
  sheaths. "Sumfin' I kin sink me teef into!"


 "Surely you would not shred an unarmed Saurian such as myself," the MENSAn
  said obsequiously as the Ferals closed in. "That's clearly of barbarous
  nature, hardly befitting such fine warriors as yourselves.


 "I do believe that introductions are in order.  How rude of me! To address a
  group of visitors as though we were intimate friends! Quite common in the
  crude, day-to-day world of the lay people, but almost unheard of in the
  elegant circles of refinement of which I, the Gate Keeper, of this
  otherwise impassable Citadel, do make my daily habitations."


 "Ya can take dat, spit on it some, and stuffit up yer-- Didya say 'Gate
  Keepa'?" Slider replied.


 "Quite correct my illustrious fellows!" the saurian replied in that
  overblown C-3PO-sounding voice of his. "I am the only one capable of
  opening this fortress to you, and thereby, through my direct, excellent,
  wonderful, and need I say, world-class guidance techniques of considerable
  refinement and finesse, though not to mince words, guide you to your
  appointed and ordained meeting with Charn'El.


 "Oh, I see the doubt in your dull-witted faces! 'Guide *us* to the High
  Mage?!' 'Surely he must be joking!'  You can rest assured, my cerebrally
  lacking companions, that I, Reginald Percival Octavius Julien the Fifth am
  your sole, and need I say only, point of access to this magnificent
  structure."


 Slider could feel his dislike for the overgrown allo-twerp increasing.


 The MENSAn pulled out an M-16 from some extradimensional space (though
  Slider thought said space was up past the saurian's rectum) and said,
  "Here, let me demonstrate." He then proceeded to empty the clip into the
  front door, only to find the obsidian pristine and undamaged after the
  smoke had cleared.


 "As you can see, it is impregnable. You cannot get in regardless of how much
  destructive force is unleashed."


 "Oh no..." moaned Hanover.


 "So, my companions, shall we discuss cases? I am neither going to charge you
  for my services, nor require anything from you. Save one single thing."


 "Which is..." asked DeadLock, his dread rising.
 

 "Such negativity! Surely your species can benefit from the company of
  enlightened being such as myself. Why, your farthest descendants might be
  able to climb a rung on the evolutionary ladder because of your
  conversation with the dazzling presence before you: yours truly, myself."


 "You can't be serious," breathed Nemesis, as comprehension dawned on him
  with the slow firmness of a python squeezing the life from its prey.


 "Perfectly, my simplistic Imp! My goals are neither direct nor simple. A
  mind such as yours could benefit from my expert tutelage."


 "Ya wanna come wit us into da Sitadul, dontcha?" Slider growled, not liking
  this one bit.


 "But of course! Who else to guide you through the unending labyrinth of the
  Citadel than yours truly? Every passage and room is known to me like the
  introductory eighty five thousand pages of our greatest poet's shortest
  piece! Why, any school child would be happy to recite it to you! Just as I
  am joyfully willing, without reservation of hidden agenda, to guide your
  simple souls through the Citadel.


 "You see, I desire conversation, however boring and mundane it may be, for I
  have no visitors here."


 "I can see why," Slider muttered under his breath.


 "It's months and months before one of those snobbish Lyrans -- and to think
  *THEY'RE* the superior life form!  HA! -- comes by to visit. They're always
  dull and rude, too concerned with their own short-sighted world to talk at
  any length," Reggie continued.


 "I do promise, in all gravity, to wit the utmost of sincerity, the truest of
  intentions, the..."


 "Let us think it over.  Please." cut in Jace. The octet moved a short
  distance away, ostensibly to confer amongst themselves about the offer.


 A pasty-faced youth with white hair and red circles on his cheeks threw open
  the tent flap as the rest of the Kithain squad was making final weapons
  checks. He too was dressed in the red and brass armor of the Chosen,
  although a servo-arm on his backpack and a cog on his right shoulder marked
  him as a Techmarine. He said, "Sergeant, we need to get our asses to the
  hovercraft!"


 "Brother Malcolm," Gideon replied to the nocker, "mind your tongue."


 "I'm serious!" Malcolm responded. "The goddamn orders just came down. We've
  got an hour to blow this motherfuckin' hot dog stand!"


 "You mean we're pulling out already?!" Fiona asked.


 "That's what I said, ya stupid bi--" Malcolm answered before Gideon silenced
  him using the time-honored method among trolls for handling their more
  profane cousins: by grabbing him in a headlock and palming his face.


 "Well, what are we waiting for?" Gideon asked, hauling Malcolm out of the
  tent with him. The rest of the Chosen immediately set to gathering all of
  their kipple and taking down the tent. As they packed, the Chosen couldn't
  help thinking that Pacifica Island had been a rather fruitless errand.


AT GREAT LENGTH...


# KMFDM (with Nicole Blackman) "Dogma" _Xtort_


 "Ooh!  And here you will see the post-feminist, neo-industrial,
  dualistically done fresco complimented dramatically by the pseudo-romantic
  floor tiling..." Reggie expounded.


 After a great deal of arm-twisting, Nemesis was designated the spokesman to
  get the MENSAn to open the gate, which the saurian did. Reggie took this
  opportunity to continue what passed for a conversation on his home
  planet/dimension/pit of Hell, spewing on and on at great length about some
  architechtural feature or objet d'art adorning the halls.


 For their part, the Maenads took this in stride. Jace was doing an
  exaggerated impression of Reggie, and it was all Slider could do not to
  crack up laughing. The rest used Reggie for the biggest spitball target
  they had ever seen.


 Finally, the party came upon an elaborate onyx gate. "Well, simpletons,"
  Reggie said, "we are at the termination of our companionship."  "After I
  open this gate for you, we shall part company. Going our separate ways, so
  to speak. Your company, though dull and half-witted, has been somewhat of a
  balm on my boredom in this horrid place.


 "For that I'll thank you.  Now, I must be on my way." The nagenta saurian
  clapped his hands together once, sharply. The big gate rumbled open, but at
  the same time all the other exits sealed shut!


 "Looks like you're coming with us," observed Jace, as the seemingly
  unthinkable happened:


 Reggie had absolutely no words.


 "Or not," smirked Deadlock.


 The rest of the way could be described as literally going into the mouth of
  Hell as the Maenads continued down a dark passage that throbbed alarmingly
  and even healed itself when Deadlock took a piece out of it with his Claws
  (tm). Things only got difficult when Reggie thought he knew the right way
  through a series of branches, only to end up getting the party lost in a
  veritable maze of tunnels.


 "Great," Hanover noted. "Now where are we?"


 "We try this way next, simpletons," Reggie replied.


 "Nonononono!" Slider shouted. "We went thru dat passage twice alreddy! Wot
  makes ya fink it's gonner be any different?"


 "Quite simply, although I must perform incredible feats of logic so that
  your puny brains can hope to comprehend what I am locuting, my inferior
  friend, it will be simple because magic is unpredictable. Only by
  exhausting all the permutations can we hope to gain ingress into the--"


 "DAT IS IT! DAT IS ZOGGIN' IT!" Slider yelled as he leapt for the saurian
  with Claws (tm) flashing. "Ya fink yer so much betta dan us, do ya?" he
  asked as a reckless left-hand swipe left four lines on Reggie's snout.
  "'Ave some boot!" A kick to the face. "And some clawz!" A right-hand swipe
  to the chest that sent blood flying. "'Oo's laffin' now, ya purple
  bastard?" A backhand slap. "Uh? I don't 'ear ya laffin'!" Windigo, Jace,
  and Blackblood came over and managed to pry the redcap away before he could
  mess Reggie up some more.


 "Afford to kill him, we can't!" Windigo admonished.


 "The 'saur's useless. Take 'im out," Jace suggested.


 A passage opened up in the wall, as if inviting the party to take it.
  Blackblood let go of Slider and boldly stepped into the new tunnel.
  Deadlock followed suit as Windigo instinctively moved closer to Shardik.
  Shortly, everybody else had gone down into the tunnel. Slider and Jace
  immediately took over point.


 The hunt was once again joined in earnest.



To be continued in "The Exercise of Vital Powers"...