Operation: Phoenix, Homeward Bound by CyberPyro (cybrpyro@iac.net) [Author's Note: This story is a chronological jump forwards past my visit to Montana and the battle in Scotland which happened after it.] I staggered forwards, exhausted, to where my personal fighter, the Andromeda, idled. Its shielding dropped without a command, Andromeda's AI identifying me automatically. The sequence for lowering the shields never occurred to me, my mind reeling from the events that had unfolded since my ship the _Hercules_ had been blasted from orbit by X'hirjq destroyers. Three ships under my command were destroyed, taking 1,000+ lives of young, brilliant Jihaddi with them. I tossed my Jihaddium/Owsenite weapon set into its compartment and slammed the door: Dammit, this whole thing had been such a waste of life. The assassination attempt that followed in Nebraska caused the death of innocent people -- something which I found hard to accept. My Lady, Czarina Tasha, had been murdered by X'hirjq assassins. With her death came the end of my familiarship and a flood of new psionic and magically strength. I could never be called Janos again; the name ended with the X'hirjq's success as did my lycanthrope abilities. Her wife, Lady Death (aka Morgenna), could not be found anywhere in Scotland; the House of Eternal Night stood empty. The demon known as Fear hid in the dark recesses of my mind, holding the words I wouldn't voice: Maybe Morgenna had been killed too. The tear in the side of my uniform opened wider as I climbed into the cockpit. My hands place the flight control helmet on head, keyed in the ignition sequences, and pulled the canopy closed. I felt adrift in a sea of emotion: Why was I here? Why all this death? Was the Jihad worth it, when my friends and Kindred died at the hands of invaders? Should I even keep fighting when so much had disappeared? Andromeda repulsed off of the ground sharply, jarring me from my thoughts. "Thought you might want to talk," said a quizzical Andromeda. "Fuc--" I started. "Ok, I'll shut up then," cut in the computer as it plotted the flight path to the TRES HQ is Colorado, USA. I lapsed into a dark world of thought, its denizens spiraling downwards, their speed ever-increasing as they came closer together. A chime broke my concentration -- important e-mail on my JihadNet account. I gloomily opened a PPP session to JihadNet and went to mail, noting that Andromeda was now flying westward over the Atlantic at mach 5. The 756 new mail message were forgotten when the one highlighted in blinking red appeared... From: X'ehmahr@G'l'zakk.X'hirjq.fleet.mil To: JihadLink@mail.JihadNet.mil cc: command@X'hirjq.fleet.mil HellWyrm@PlushWorld.com Subj: My Trophy for the Invasion (multi-part w/ multimedia :)= ) With a sense of dread, I loaded this massive security violation into my viewer. The screen flickered and the shark-toothed grin of a X'hirjq warrior stared, it seemed, directly at me. "Greetings, Jihaddi. I am X'ehmahr of the Clan G'l'zakk in the glorious X'hirjq invasion fleet," stated the computer simulated voice. "Moments ago, your base known as 'W.E.D.J.E.E. HQ' in 'Iowa' was completely destroyed by our Clan." "No!" I shouted as the sinking feeling inside became almost over- whelming. This was Samhain's, one of my closest friends in the Jihad and fellow Kindred Childe of the Night's, favorite places. He often worked late there, drawing and building new vehicles and weapons for the Jihad. "This," chuckled X'ehmahr, "is my trophy!" Her clawed hand raised into view, holding a human head by the top of the skull. I shuddered, refusing to comprehend the horrific image in front of me for several seconds, the shock too much to take. X'ehmahr clawed hand held the blood-splattered head of Fleet Commander Samhain, leader of the Doberman Empire, up to the camera for all to get a close look, and be certain whose head it was. The mangled remains of his neck and the expression frozen in his flesh spoke clearer than any human ever could: he had died in unbearable pain. Probably by having his head torn from his body. "NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" I screamed, my voice reverberating throughout the cockpit. My protest found its way out of my filled lungs again, weaker this time, as grief washed over me, stronger with every wave. "No," I sobbed, my tears blurring the world, as I cradled myself in my arms. Memories floated past: my first meeting w/ Samhain, long conversations together in the House of Eternal Night, the strong friendship that had developed as we grew to know each other better, the late night visits to Mc Donald's, and, of course, our desponging efforts, sparring practices together, and spongin slaying for the unrepentant. All this had been ended by X'ehmahr. I might find him again if he located a new host body, but then again, my life could end in this invasion as well. Unlike Samhain, I had no idea of what would happen to me if my body died, just another unknown in my life. My tears continued to flow as memories for Samhain paraded past my sorrow. The demon known as Doubt came to keep my sorrow company. 'Why do you even fight?' it asked. 'Your Lady and one of your close friends have died. They won't be the only ones, you know that as well as I do. Why do you even fight? It's looking like the X'hirjq will exterminate The Jihad[tm] and The Cause[tm] with it. If your resistance continues, surely, you'll die as well. Why do you even fight? We should hide while we can, accept our loses, and let the X'hirjq have their way with the Jihad. Afterall, what's really left once all of your friends have died? Hmmm? Would you prefer to rot beside them?' Doubt's interrogation stopped as another shrill chime interrupted, new mail blinking a bright mauve color: From: HellWyrm@PlushWorld.com To: JihadLink@mail.JihadNet.mil cc: command@X'hirjq.fleet.mil X'ehmahr@G'l'zakk.X'hirjq.fleet.mil Subj: Super-Dee Duper! was: My Trophy for the Invasion... I snarl-hissed and twitched at the appearance of the Lavender Lard Lord's image on my screen. "Hehehehee," giggled the Hell Wyrm, waddling from side to side as he approached the camera, flanked by b'hii j'haa and b'habii b'hopp. "My congratulations to the *wonderful* X'hirjq!" screeched b'habii b'hopp as she bounced closer, holding her blanket. "Yeah, great!" chimed in b'hii j'haa, "now all we need is Lord Tilden Owsen's and J. FoxGlov's heads on a platter!" "Well, my bestest friends in the Jihad," said The Great Satan of Backstage Fondling, "Samhain resisted my luv and caring, and see where it got him? Stop fighting my luv, and join me in singing my song..." "I luv you, you..." sang the unholy trio in unison. > cut in JihadNet's safeguards as my hand curled into a fist <> "Punch that screen and you can walk home," said Andromeda, his voice not even slightly amused. My fist rested on my leg, rage and hatred erupting like plasma from a solar flare. The demon Doubt looked around, saw the fires rising on all sides of him and knew one thing: his timing was just plain awful. The avatar Purpose approached, wreathed in fire, and spoke: "The losses of which you speak, though grievous wounds, are inconsequential. I fight for the children, to insure their freedom from Purple Domination in all its forms. There is no battle more important, no Cause[tm] to put before this one, nothing else to do, until the freedom of all our descendants from Purple Tyranny has been secured. "I will die fighting for all our generations' freedom. The Hell Wyrm and his allies may take my bases, materials, friends, loved ones, and all else I hold dear from this world, but my struggle does not cease until It Of The One Tooth is dead for all eternity." Doubt recoiled as the flames rushed at him. His dying screams were quickly drown out by roaring of flames as they consumed his flesh. To be continued in The Battle For the TRES Corps HQ, Pt 1 CP Copyright, Pyrokinetic Productions, Inc. (1996)