Operation: Pacifica, Assembling the Finest
by Fleet Commander Samhain, DE, aka BlackBlood the Feral (NYAR!)


 Samhain pushed through the massive oaken doors into his office.  He
  paused momentarily upon entering to turn and look at them as they swung
  closed behind him.  Nice.  Those hadn't been put in yet last time he'd
  managed to spend some time in here to take care of some business.  He turned
  around slowly, taking in the changes that had been made since last time.
  The rack-mounts had been installed in one of the rock walls, though still
  barren of anything mounted in them.  An oak frame had been put in the wall
  next to it, someday to be used as shelves.  The track-lighting was in place
  and functional, as was the communications system with large-screen viewer.
  He sighed and shook his head as he wandered over to the comfy office chair
  setting behind the single 8 by 3 foot table that was serving as his desk for
  the time being.  There wasn't any other furniture in the room to speak of--
  only a cot in the corner--but at least he'd managed to get a comfortable
  chair.


 Logging onto the Unix machine on his desk he found the usual heap
  of email waiting.  He'd been rather insistent that one of the first things
  operational in his office be the network connection so he could at least
  read his mail in privacy, even if it *was* mostly stuff he didn't want to
  know.  He scanned the mail, found the usual system operations messages and
  promptly deleted them, knowing the techs either had already dealt with or
  would dealing with them asap.  He scanned the MIA list, which drew a terse
  grunt of dissatisfaction.  The number was already too large for his liking
  and still growing.


 He sighed yet again as he wandered over to the counter to get a cup
  of coffee from the ancient-looking Mister Coffee on the as-yet unfinished
  counter top.  At least someone had been kind enough to slip in and make some
  coffee for him.  As he was taking his first sip of coffee, there was a knock
  on the door and a comm-tech poked his head in.  "Sir?  Incoming message from
  TRES HQ.  Would you care to take it in the comm center?"


 Samhain paused a moment before replying.  "No, I think I'll take it
  here and see how things are working, knock on wood.  It should cut out down
  there when I take it."


 "Yes sir," replied the comm tech, disappearing from the office.


 "Well, I hope this stuff works," he mumbled to himself as he again
  flopped into his comfy chair.  He tapped a remote briefly to activate the
  viewscreen and open the comm channel, and looked forward to having the
  voice-command stuff installed.  There were a couple short splashes of static
  on the 8 by 4 foot screen, then a brief notification screen saying
  "Connection established.  Incoming Transmission from TRES HQ," before the
  screen flickered again to show a picture of none other than CyberPyro.


 "CP ya old dog!" grinned Samhain as his friend showed up on the
  screen.  "Where ya been?  I could use some help around here..." he quipped
  briefly, although he knew pretty well from his own experience of getting the
  new HQ set up what he'd been up to.  Noting the serious look on CP's face
  and the changed rank insignia, though, his demeanor shifted quite
  drastically.  "What can I do for you, CP?  Something tells me this isn't
  just a social call.  And what's up with the new rank?"


 Cyberpyro stared into his viewscreen, noting the spartan nature of
  his friend's office as well as the concrete floors and dust still setting on
  most everything he could see.  Apparently things weren't all that different
  at the Doberman HQ than they were at his own, though *he* didn't have to
  build a whole new headquarters.  Hell, Samhain was even in full uniform,
  something uncharacteristic unless it was a special occasion or just plain
  busy as hell.


 "Sam, I'll be frank.  At best, Owsen's captured and we hope to find
  where he is.  At worst, Owsen's dead and we're about to walk into a trap.
  Regardless of which it is, though, we need some help."


 Samhain scowled at the thought.  Not very pleasant options, that
  was for damn sure.  He paused and took a sip of his coffee before answering.
  "Hmm.  I'm listening."  He leaned backwards and put his feet up on his desk
  as CP talked, explaining about smudges, SMs, a flying island, and missing
  Jihaddi.


 "That's why we need your help--we need a way to get there,"
  explained the new Grand Admiral.


 "You're serious."


 "Yes, about everything."


        "We're still reorganizing the DE.  We can't possibly send
  the fleet on some mission right now.  We ..."


        "Sam," started CP, using the familiar address so few could,
  "I know trying to swing this is a bad idea.  TRES Corps can hardly stand
  upright at the moment as well, but we can't ignore the possibility of
  imprisoned Jihaddi..."


        "You detected one dragon.  Maybe someone in TRES..."


        "As if the DE doesn't have a massive MIA list?  Those
  spongin we were worried about when the X'hirjq left didn't evaporate.  I
  think a good portion of them are there, holding MIA Jihaddi prisoner..."


        "Let me think about it," sighed Samhain as he cut out the
  channel.  He set his coffee mug on the table and pondered what he'd been
  told.  CP was right, of course--it had to be checked out.  Granted, they
  couldn't be positive of *anything* regarding that island, but could they
  really take the chance of leaving fellow Jihaddi to rot there? With that
  thought, he started calling officers and fleet personnel.




...




 Well, things could have gone worse.  Samhain had managed to round
  up Aphrodite, Perazim, Shardik, and even Windigo for the Operation.  He'd
  also found that the _Iowa_ group plus a few other ships were already
  stationed in San Francisco and had gone largely unbothered during Operation:
  Phoenix.  Aside from a brief run-in with some idiot calling himself
  Stryyyyfie who had been promptly torpedoed and sunk, it had been a rather
  slow year for the group.


 It was time to go visit CyberPyro.



...


 After the short briefing, it was time to load up.  Everyone hustled
  out to the TARAVs, tossing their gear into the back and climbing in with
  their designated drivers.  As Samhain flopped his pack of gear and duffle
  into the back and secured it, Shardik strode up looking for the TARAV number
  he'd been given.  He looked at the plate number, his sheet of paper, then at
  the dark figure loading gear.  As he looked, his eyes couldn't help but lock
  on the bulge in his shirt pocket.  He was driving.


 "'lo Shard," grinned Samhain.  "You riding with me?"


 Shardik groaned and loaded his stuff.  "'Fraid so... I get shotgun,
  though..."


 "If you really want it."



...




 A few minutes later, everyone was ready to go.  Everyone had found
  their TARAV, tossed in their gear, and climbed in.  Shardik stepped into the
  cab of the TARAV and strapped himself in next to Samhain, who was grinning
  ear to ear at the prospect of driving.


 Before he knew it, Shardik was slammed into the back of his seat,
  acceleration providing enough g-forces to make his stomach churn.  "This is
  why I wanted shotgun--better straps to hold me in!"  exclaimed the Prince
  Sheridan.


#Music:  Rebel the Redline#




 Samhain only laughed, and stomped on the pedal to race past the
  vulpine in front of him, clearly not used to being inside a vehicle, let
  alone controlling it.  "Outta my way!!" he hollered as he just blew by.



...




 A couple hours later, Samhain was hungry and decided to pause for a
  cheeseburger at McDonald's.  Noting the line at the drive-through, it was
  gonna be speedier and more convenient to run inside.  CP pulled up behind
  him split-seconds later.


 "Sam!  What the hell are you doing!  This isn't speedy!"


 "No, but it's convenient, and I want a Burger!" he yelled back as
  he ran inside.


 "Well Bring me some too!"


 "Yeah, right!  Get yer own!  It's inconvenient and not speedy if I
  have to bring burgers to *you* !" he retorted, sending CP charging into the
  Restaurant after him.




 Shardik enjoyed his reprieve, however short it was.  Less than a
  minute later, Samhain came charging back out of the McDonald's, sacks of
  burgers in his large hands.  As he ran for the TARAV, he nearly ran smack
  into the side of the sports car that pulled up and cut him off.


 "What, you think you can have all the fun without me?" scolded the
  familiar voice of the on-board AI.


 "Elektra, what are you doing here?"


 "Going on this mission, like it or not.  Now, are you gonna get in
  and Drive, or are you going to drive that hunka junk?"


 Samhain laughed and tossed his food into the passenger seat and ran
  to the back to retrieve his gear.  The gear was quickly tossed into the back
  seat, such as it was, and the keys were tossed to Shardik at about the same
  time CP came running out of the restaurant, hopped into his TARAV, and sped
  off again.  "Here!  You drive!"


 Shardik had never been more relieved in his life.



...



 A couple minutes later, Samhain pulled up alongside CP's TARAV in
  the V-1.  He waved briefly at his fellow Driver, and noting the expression
  on his face opened a comm channel.


 "Hey, that's not fair..." said CP.


 "Sure it is.  It's speedy--much much faster than a TARAV--and it
  was convenient.  It pulled up right in front of me.  See ya later!"


 And with that, Samhain sped off into the gathering night to be seen
  again only in San Francisco.



-----------
"Assembling the Finest"
Copyright 1996
David R. Hibbs