Operation: Phoenix, Turning Point Battle, Part 16 by CyberPyro (cybrpyro@iac.net) [place: Earth orbit] "WHAT?!?" thundered Admiral D'harnie T'harn of the Lyran Carrier Fleet. [May your hunt continue] thought the X'hirjq Fleet Admiral, curtly cutting off communications. The Lyran watched in disbelief as X'hirjq warships turned away from Earth in unison and accelerated towards deep space. "They're taking most of the fire power with them," said an ashen colored Admiral T'harn. "Signal all ships: Retreat, emergency evacuation procedures." "Sir," asked an Admiral on the bridge, "what about our Troops and their sponge minions on the human's planet?" "They can fend for themselves. All craft retreat." ... [place: Des Moines, IA, 801 Grand Platform] [We now depart] thought the Empress, fading from sight with the thousands of other X'hirjq floating around the platform. The ten Jihaddi stared at the empty space where the Empress had been, momentarily shocked. "From where?" asked Morgenna. "I..." said CyberPyro, twitching at a cascade of beeps. He reached into his pocket and drew out his near-forgotten JihadLinker[tm] with a fluid motion gained from long practice. "Well, looks like at least part of JihadNet is back," said Shardik. "Only the basics," observed Cerberus as he received a screen full of 'device not mounted' and 'connection timed out' messages on advanced functions. "Well let's see ... CP?" asked Samhain, raising an eyebrow, as his friend walked to the edge of the platform. A quiet rush of air washed over CP as Andromeda, his personal fighter, came into view. "I'm outta here," said CyberPyro as he climbed into the cockpit. "Where do you think you're going?" asked Samhain as watched his friend preparing to leave. "Need I say it?" asked CP, his eyes making Samhain stop in his tracks. "No you don't," he answered sullenly. Andromeda streaked silently away from the 801 Grand Building, a bright point in the sky marking its acceleration upwards. "What he said," spoke Owsen, disappearing in a collapse of air around where his body used to be. Cerberus departed in a flash of white light, Windigo phasing out of existence a split second later. Shardik sighed and sunk into a dimensional portal. "Dammit, I have to walk down the stairs," grumbled Most Holy as he trudged away from the ruined hulk of the elevator. Samhain knelt down atop the tower, pondering the events of the past day. Killing an evil copy of one's self tends to really screw with the way you look at the world. He sat down and allowed the previously suppressed feelings to well up within him. Hot tears flowed down his cheeks as he watched the sky begin to brighten in the east, the dawning of a new day. ... [time: 2 days later] [place: The TRES Corps HQ, Colorado, USA] Ensign Rogers wound his way down the central corridor of the Ellipsoid, twisting left or right to avoid passing officers or workmen. The stack of reports in his arms shifted slightly and threatened to fall. "Dammit" he swore, bending down to gather the scattered papers. It was all so unreal to him. One day he had a quiet office in Vermont with a successful career, the next he was an officer in a huge, hi-tech military organization dedicated to destroying a plush demon. And, of course, gathering up the reports would make him late. The Admiral was expecting him for their first meeting and he was going to make a bad impression... "You're late, Rogers," said the Admiral without breaking stride in his conversation with a group of earlier officers. After curtly wrapping up his meeting, the Admiral immediately flipped on a set of monitors, completely ignoring the Ensign standing rigidly at attention. "Well, don't stand there all day. What do you have for me?" "Sir, I..." started Rogers. He'd expected some old, fat man in full dress regalia. "Don't call me sir in every sentence." "Ok, s..." but instead here was the guy who looked /younger/ than he by five years and wore rough blue jeans, combat boots, and a white cotton shirt. The only thing giving away his rank was the 2nd in Command insignia on his collar. "I really hate that. Don't do it." "Alright," said the Ensign, a bit flustered. "So what have we found out about tracking the X'hirjq?" "Well, bluntly, we can't even find evidence they were ever *here*. Every test, even ones we invented, just come up negative. No tracks, no trails, no clues whatsoever as to where the X'hirjq went." "I see," said the Admiral, closing his eyes and steepling his fingers as he pondered. The Ensign shifted nervously from foot to foot, wanting to finish his report and go back to less stressful duties. "The Lyrans? And the spongies?" "Well, sir..." "What did I say?" "Sorry. On them, we do have more information." "Good." "At approximately 3:23am, MST, in the US, the bulk of the Lyran fleet left Earth orbit and escaped into HyperSpace. However, they left behind an estimated 12 million sponge minions and 50,000 Lyrans. "16:41 MST the following day, satellite reconnaisance detected several instances of energy portals across the planet surface. As this photo reveals, armies of spongin marched into them and simply vanished." "What do you mean, Ensign?" asked the Admiral as he looked at the photos. "I mean, we have absolutely no idea where 75% of those spongin are at this moment. Approximately two hundred groups, totaling four million, have been identified across the globe, but the rest are missing." "Anything else?" "No." "Dismissed," said CyberPyro as he swiveled his chair around to look out the window and ponder. Millions of missing spongin, several personnel still unaccounted for, most of the Jihad in shambles from the X'hirjq invasion, and the appearance of Grimace at the battle in Iowa all added up to one thing: the times were not only interesting, they were surreal. ... [time: not a whole lot later] [place: The ruins of the Church of Blarney] The bishop stumbled through the ruin, sobbing openly as he looked at the remains of the once mighty cathedral of The Church of Blarney. His tears cut bright, shiny tracks through the grey dust and soot on his face. A few members of the Church had managed to escape the squads of attacking X'hirjq, but most had fallen to enemy blades. The bishop looked up, recognizing the blasted remains of the Grand Altar, and fell to his knees as his cries of mourning pierced the air. "Why do you weep so, Osborne?" asked Pinhead, seating himself on a pile of blackened bricks. "Forgive me, your excellency," stammered the bishop. "The Church .. it's gone. Our work, our resources, our home taken away by those aliens." "Yes," agreed Pinhead, "the Church has lost a lot of resources." "I can't continue. Too much is gone," lamented the bishop. A child holding a b'harnii doll cried in the distance. "Everything we built: gone. It will take years of tithes to even begin construction on a new cathedral. I ... sir?" "What is the matter?" asked Pinhead unto the child holding a copy of the plush demon, the bishop off in the distance completely forgotten. "I don't yike it!" yelled the child, trying to toss the toy away, but finding the pluhie drawing itself back to her hands. "I see," said Pinhead, "do you want to be free of it?" "... yes. I don't yike it and it scares me!" "Offer the icon of b'harnii to me," suggested Pinhead. The little girl looked at the doll, as though uncertain, for a moment and then extended it in front of her. "In the name of Blarney, eternal enemy of.." chanted Pinhead as he grasped the head of the plushy. The Hell Wyrm icon left the little girl's hands, trailing magenta threads of energy after it. The lavendar felt of the doll tore open, dust pouring out and scattering in the wind. Soon, nothing remained of the implement of the Hell Wyrm. "Cool," said the little girl, grining widely. "Come child, let us go visit the bishop." Pinhead and the little girl found the bishop were he had been left, kneeling in the debris weeping for crumbled bricks and shattered glass. Upon seeing the two, he made some effort to straighten his robes, but it made little difference as his robes were coated in filth. "This," said Pinhead as he patted the girl on the head, "is why the Church exists. Not for bricks, glass, and wood, but for the children and those wishing to be free of b'harii. "The loss of a cathedral is insignificant next to our true purpose and Mission." "Yes, it is so," admitted the bishop as he bowed his head. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a Church to rebuild," said Pinhead as he walked away with the little girl telling him of her afflicted friends. CP Op: Phoenix is now concluded. The story has been told to completion. Archives of Operation: Phoenix may be viewed on the World Wide Web at http://www.iac.net/~cybrpyro/Jihad/phoenix. [fin] Spongy: So, are you done writing for the Jihad? Me: Mwah hahahahaha! Don't be ridiculous. *draws Claymoor* Me: o/~ C'mere little spongy... o/~ Copyright, Pyrokinetic Productions, Inc. (1996)