Secondary Objective-

Find and destroy any targets of opportunity including:

• Contents of any alcoholic beverage containers
• Brain Cells
• Liver Cells
• Cells of resistance
• Reputations
• Innocence
• Preconceived notions

Target Location- Alpine, California

Estimated Range to Target- 511 miles

Estimated Time to Target- 11 hours

2000-

Intelligence team moves into positions, first reports trickle in.

0930-

Post Decoy email to throw off defenses. Subjects should be unaware of impending assault.

1000-

Logistics Check- Condition Yellow

Time, Rate, and Distance calculations present tiny window of opportunity. Ideal conditions for mission already passed. Alternative scenarios planned.

1300-

Meet with Sgt. Kat, Quartermaster, and Logistics Planners. Red Light on mission. Directed to alternative plan B- Overnight R&R junket to secret location in Kokopeli Valley.

1310-

Morale falls, troops downcast. Logistics planners reconvene in war room. Mission outlook upgraded to Yellow.

1315-

Logistics calculates extremely low likelihood of success, with high percentage for potential casualties. Sgt. Kat concurs. Mission status returned to Red.

1330-

Intelligence emails arrive. Targets environment RICH. Multiple targets of opportunity already eliminated, with high concentration of targets in a centralized location. The determination is made that a chance like this only comes around once in a long while. Mission Commander raises mission status back to Yellow over protests of Logistics planners.

1345-

Extensive meeting with Sgt. Kat in the war room determines that this must be a volunteers-only mission.

1350-

Call for volunteers met with enthusiasm by troops, until full disclosure of potential risk and hardship. Troops opt out, preferring less dangerous duty around the backyard swimming facility.

1400-

Logistics officer again- Mission is beyond the scope of current experience. Strike Vehicle has not been tested under these conditions. Outcome is too uncertain. Red Light strongly recommended.

1405-

Morale falls again. Mission Commander plans to begin Plan B, but without enthusiasm. Sgt. Kat kicks Mission Commander in the butt. New perspective is gained.

1410-

Special planning meeting organized in the shower. Mission Commander rehashes original plan until reasonable margins of success are formulated.

A solo raider with good endurance can make the run and accomplish most of the mission objectives. Mission Commander steps forward and volunteers for the duty.

1500-

Intelligence Probe sent out, seeking land line information for target location. Strike Vehicle outfitted for quick hit and run engagement.

1530-

No results from intelligence probe yet. Sgt. Kat takes over as Base Communications officer and will forward any incoming info directly to Mission Commander via Top Secret telecommunications device.

1600-

Mission Commander briefed and outfitted. Final logistics check, but Logistics planners break clipboards and throw their calculators into the waste receptacles.

1610-

1805-

My ass hurts. I have to make a note of that to pass on to the folks who build these things. I like this Strike Vehicle, but man this seat . . .

I’m at my first scheduled refueling stop, just shy of the 100 mile mark. The trip so far has been wonderful. Little traffic, even in the Altamont Pass. I sailed onto I-5 maintaining an average speed of about 80 mph. If I can maintain this pace, I should arrive well ahead of schedule.

Important lessons learned on this first stretch-

Pay attention to numbness in the legs. Numb, spongy legs do NOT support a stopped Strike Vehicle very well. Almost fell on my ass, which hurts, by the way.

1930-

Rest stop.

Incredible Winds along this barren stretch of I-5. Crossing Open Ground takes on a whole new perspective right now. A little while ago I watched a group of about four unidentified Strike Vehicles battle the wind ahead of me. They strung out like ribbons on the tail of a kite, weaving across the freeway with each gust, then forcing their way back to the right lane, only to be tossed aside again.

I found myself fighting the same battle. Every part of my body that can clench was tightly gripping the vehicle.

The San Gabriels loom on the distant horizon. Hopefully this wind will die out by the time I get up there.

Man, my ass hurts.

2000-

Another Rest Stop.

Nearing Bakersfield, but the wind has ripped the surface dust into a near whiteout. A minute ago I was looking ahead at the waxing full moon rolling up over the San Gabriel Mountains, and looking forward to riding in the white glow of her smiling face, and the next minute the whole picture was obscured in the blinding dust storm.

Almost forgot how bad my ass hurts.

2030-

Into the foothills now. The wind is gone, and the ride is easier. I’m stopping to put on my cold-weather gear before heading into the heights. It’s already coolish down here, so I imagine it’ll be damned cold up topside.

Not for the last time, I wonder if the Tactical Vehicle would have been a better choice of conveyance for this raid. Remind me to kick the hell out of the Motor Pool Clerk.

Feels like someone kicked the hell out of me. Right in the ass.

2145-

De-icing and refueling.

Got through the San Gabriels without incident, mainly because I think my body froze to the machine, and I couldn’t have fallen off if I’d wanted to.

I think I’m in Brentwood, right next to Bel-Aire. A group of VERY inebriated revelers have just piled into their Porsches and screeched out into the night. Must have been a great dinner in that fancy restaurant they just came out of. I’m hungry, but I don’t think I’d be taken too kindly if I popped into Popino’s looking like this. I wonder which way those folks are headed, and hope they’re not going South.

I’m extending this rest stop. I’m really tired, but I’m afraid to sit down. I wonder where I could buy one of those "donut" cushions at this time of night.

2200-

Underway again. LA Traffic isn’t as bad as I was afraid, but it’s still fast and furious. Average speed in LA traffic has been 85mph or higher. The Strike Vehicle seems to like the pace, though. If only this seat were more forgiving . . .

0000-

Long, fairly uneventful ride. I’m closing fast on San Diego. Alpine is next. But for now, I need a padded seat and caffeine. Stopped into Denny’s. After nearly falling asleep in the booth waiting for service, I was rewarded with coffee and their special Hot Fudge Sundae Cake. OMIGOD!!! Dense chocolate cake, covered with heavy chocolate syrup, vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, and more chocolate syrup. In combination with about five or six cups of coffee, I feel like I could now ride all the way to Brazil. Even my butt feels better.

I stretched this break out for a while. ETA is now looking more like 0300, but who’s counting?

0233-

I’ve made it! Here’s the driveway, and I coast in warily watching for the killer Doormat.

0235-

I don’t remember Doc’s driveway being so long. And are all these homes new?

The road ends and I’m surrounded by barking German Shepherds on three sides. This is obviously the wrong driveway. Didn’t I do this last year?

Turn the Strike Vehicle around and go back the way I came. Hope the roaring thrusters haven’t disturbed the sleep of any non-combatants.

0245-

Now where is that damned driveway?

I have the land line code, and I consider calling to see if my Intelligence sources are available to guide me in. As I’m about to give up, I see that one my trusty operatives has secretly placed a signpost by the roadside. With my top secret decoder ring, I realize that this sign marks the entrance to Doc’s place. I’ve Made it!

0300-

Cruising slowly into the driveway, ready to spin around and haul ass if that killer door mat shows up. ..

Holy cow! Look at that table! Casualties of the night are strewn everywhere. Empty beer cans, tequila bottles, and what the hell is this? Akvavit? Who the hell is making Molitovs around here? Apparently my operatives have been hard at work already, exterminating so many targets of opportunity. But it must have been a bloody battle, and I fear for the safety of my people.

0315-

END LOG 1-