Operation: Pacifica, In the Wake of the Storm
by Fleet Commander Samhain, aka BlackBlood the Feral (NYAR!)


 "Gotcha again, Imp!" CyberPyro taunted.  He'd just aced Captain
  Felton for about the 28th time in a row.


 "Dammit, CP, it ain't fair waiting for me to come back in then
  running the chainsaw through me..."


 CP cackled with glee.  "It is if I can find you, Imp!"


 DarkSide muttered something under his breath about the whole thing
  was just an insane mess; at least Samhain wasn't here to help torture him.
  Still grumbling, he downloaded some of his special modified weapons to the
  shipboard network and set them up.


 CP was disturbed by that thought... he'd not seen Samhain for
  several days now.  The last he'd seen of him was after their narrow escape
  from Pacifica.  While he pondered where his friend might be, DarkSide crept
  up behind CP and fired a solid stream of about 30 grenades, reducing him to
  a bunch of fine red pixels.  CP didn't even notice--he was wondering about
  the conspicuously absent Fleet Commander.



...


 Samhain sat under the massive aft set of 20" deck guns, looking out
  over the smooth water between the massive fantails left behind the DTT Iowa.
  It had been more than 72 hours since those guns had fired their last rounds
  against spongin forces on the island, but the area was still rank with the
  smells of gunpowder and heavy machine oil.


 The sun blazed a fiery red trail down the sky towards its
  inevitable rendezous with the horizon, the remaining dust from Pacifica
  providing a spectacle of unparalleled splendor.


 "'Lo CP," he said in greeting as his friend neared.  CyberPyro had
  been utterly soundless in his approach, respectful of Samhain's
  contemplation and meditation, yet his presence was unmistakable.


 "Hi..." he responded quietly.  "Amazing, isn't it?"


 "Yes, it is," came the simple, almost terse, reply.


 CyberPyro had searched nearly the entire ship from bow to stern,
  and he now looked at Samhain closely for the first time since discovering
  his place of meditation.  He sat cross-legged on the deck, hands on his
  knees, staring out to sea.  His katana and wakizashi lay sheathed roughly a
  yard in front of him and another yard from the railing.  "What's up with the
  swords?" he asked, gauging his words and tone cautiously.  "Is something
  wrong?"


 Samhain nodded somberly, then rose adroitly.  He took a step
  forward to kneel by the blades.  He gently slid his hands under them before
  standing again, both swords held flat on his palms.  Turning towards
  CyberPyro, he wrapped the fingers of his right hand around the katana and
  those of his left around the wakizashi.  Turning the handle of the wakizashi
  towards his friend, he extended it in offering.  "Take it," he instructed
  simply.


 CyberPyro hesitated, eyeing the offered weapon.  "Sam, what's this
  about?"


 "These aren't me anymore, CP.... maybe they never really were..."
  his voice trailed off as he gazed out toward the horizon once more.  He
  looked back towards his friend before continuing.  "Take it, it's yours.
  This..." he began, looking down at the katana, "This no longer fits who I
  am."


 Reflecting on the events of the past year, CyberPyro nodded slowly.
  They had spilled each others' blood, they had spilled their own blood, they
  had fought so long and hard.  Yet, somehow, he understood that what Samhain
  was saying ran deeper still.  He somberly accepted the sword without saying
  another word.


 Sensing his friend's understanding, Samhain stepped away from him,
  pivoted, and flung the katana with all his might.  It spun end over end
  through the air as its long, graceful arc carried it to its Valhalla.


 A heavy silence wrapped the pair like a dark, woolen blanket as the
  last rays of the sunset streamed over the horizon.  "Perhaps someday..."


 "Perhaps."  Samhain leaned on the railing, looking down at the
  mixture of murky waters and white froth churned up behind the massive
  battleship.  "CP, I've something I'd like you to help with when we get back
  home."


 "Name it."



...




 Their trip complete, the caravan of TARAVs pulled up to the still
  heavily damaged TRES headquarters.  The commotion of unpacking and sorting
  out effects and equipment immediately ensued.  Work progressed rapidly in
  the kind of organized chaos possible only possible in military
  organizations.   Everyone, regardless of rank, pitched in as everything was
  done as quickly and efficiently as humanly possible.


 As the activity wound down, Samhain paused to look over the group.
  Everything was going well.  He called Windigo aside for a moment, explained
  the situation, then transferred command.  He was going to stay a while.


...


 Samhain reached out towards CyberPyro and took his right forearm in
  his left hand.  Their grip locked, then released.  Each reached down and
  shouldered their minimal packs of gear, then headed out into the mountain
  forests of Colorado.


[End of Pacifica, TBC in "Reformation"]

"In the Wake of the Storm"
Copyright 1997
David R. Hibbs