Operation: Pacifica, Maximum Overdrive by CyberPyro, aka DeadLock the Feral (NYAR!) The landscape blurred by as CP tried to unite accelerator with floor metal. Lieutenant Gates looked at the digital speedometer blinking a red: "238 mph," or an alternate "381 kph," and held his stomach. He looked down at the asphalt and felt a bit queasy: the normal black and light-gray pattern of I-80 had become a continuous, writhing strip of blackness as the TARAV approached its operating limits. The Lt. snapped his head up as a high pitched whirring noise drown out the driving noises of his vehicle. Another TARAV passed them in the fast lane, a shadowy figure waving as his vehicle suffered the stress of moving 30 mph over its functional limits. "All right, Sam," snapped CP as his friend's vehicle settled into a safe operating speed in his lane, "It's passing time!" The TARAV lurched, shuddering violently, as the speedometer clicked up to 281 mph (450 kph). The DE Fleet Commander's TARAV shrunk to a dot in the distance behind them before CP eased up, bringing the vehicle out of the red zone. The computer beeped loudly as parts of a LED TARAV in the HUD blinked in unison. Another beep informed CP of an incoming message from Samhain. "OK ... my computer's are complaining about 'exceeding kinetic limit' -- whatever heresy that is -- let's just settle into a cruising speed until we get to a Mc D's." "Sure, I'll slow up a bit," agreed CP as he looked at his pasty passengers, "besides, I think I'm scaring my officers..." ... "Mmmm ... burger," mused CP as he simultaneously opened a cheeseburger and screeched out of the parking lot at 45 mph. Once on the highway, he held a cheeseburger in one hand, a Sticky Shake in the other, and drove with his knees while the TARAV topped out again. An electric blue Vector Avtech slid beside the TARAV and matched speeds. A moment later, the tinted window turned transparent to reveal Samhain, likewise eating and drinking. "No fair!" complained CP as Samhain just smirked and blurred down the road, Elektra pushing her limits. ... [Place: Doberman Naval Yards, near the Presidio] Candide looked up from his boring guard duties at the main entrance gate and blinked. Was that a tank-like thing he'd just seen go airborne in the distance? As he watched, it happened again: a large vehicle reached the crest of a second hill in a series of four to their gates, and launched into the air! It remained in view for a precious handful of seconds and then disappeared behind the line of sight for the next hill. "We've got company!" yelled the soldier as he hit the alarm. Squads ran from their bunkers across the concrete, manning defensive stations, and powering up their weapons. 'What sort of lunatic drives like that?' thought Candide to himself as he looked through the scope of his rifle. The vehicle launched from the last hill and landed in a shower of sparks. A tide of glowing, metallic shards erupted from underneath the giant tank and blossomed until the vehicle itself was hidden in a fiery cloud. DE soldiers standing between the TARAV and chain-link fence scattered as self-preservation instincts dictated their actions. The tide of sparks enveloped the fence as it rippled from golf ball sized chunks of cement slamming into it. The fiery shroud dropped away, revealing a huge war machine, complete with smoldering tracks and pasty, white-knuckled passengers. The top hatch popped open and a man appeared. He wore a German World War 1 motorcyclist's helmet (the kind with big spike on top), flight goggles, and a broad smile. The DE soldiers stood, slack-jawed, as he slid down the front of his tank and slipped into the 8 inch gap between TARAV and fence. "Chickens, you weren't even /close/ to getting crushed," he chided as he clung to the fence, imitating someone afraid of getting splattered by the tank. "Do you have any identification?" snapped Candide, his patience rapidly eroding. "Sure," said the man as he tossed his id to Candide. "Go on in, Trooper Surtur, Sir," swallowed Candide. "Cool ... seen Samhain yet?" asked CP as dropped the TARAV into gear. "He's been here a short time, Sir." ... After storing his gear and checking the TARAV into storage, CP headed off towards the command center. Maybe he could find Samhain there. "No, silly, I'm right here," spoke his friend from the shadows around the Officer's Club. "Sam!" "Took you long enough to get here..." "... without a talking sports car, yeah," finished CP, "well, J and the sensible drivers won't be here until at least 0600 hours tomorrow. Want to go..." "clubbing?" suggested Samhain as he stepped from the shadows. His normal DE uniform had been replaced by knee-length khaki shorts, a black cotton T-shirt, and hiking boots made by Nike. "Where's your mountain bike?" snickered CP as Elektra glided behind him and opened her doors. "Couldn't find one on base," chuckled Samhain as he slipped behind the wheel. His friend picked a package of clothes up from the passenger's side seat and sat down. "My civvies! Thanks! I don't have to wear that stuffy Grand Admiral's uniform," smiled CP as he examined the contents. His jacket and undershirt landed in Elektra's tiny back seat as she drove through the gates. "Where to?" queried Samhain as he looked at his friend's outfit: black cotton mess shirt, jean shorts, black leather jacket, combat boots, and two small gold hoops in his right ear. "Castro Gardens. Driving 1,000 miles in four and half hours makes you hungry," replied CP as he melted two links of a thick steel chain together with his fingers, forming an impromptu necklace. "They serve cheeseburgers?" asked Sam as the landscape blurred by yet again. CP Copyright, Pyrokinetic Productions, Inc. (1996)