Super Soaker Central

The huge wave crashed onto the small sailboat. A piercing CRACK thundered and some of the militia went overboard. Luckily, they were wearing life jackets.

"Okay, who's missing?" asked Force. A militiaman reported that three militiamen went overboard and the main sail snapped. Force thought to himself, "Monsoon!"

He rushed down the steps and Monsoon got up from his makeshift bed. He was basically lying down in water! "Awww man! We got a leak somewhere!" yelled Force.

The ship had a rather small hole on the stern side of the boat. Water was leaking in, but not too bad. The water in the lower deck was mostly from the wave itself. "It'll only be about less than fifteen minutes long now," said Force, "We can make it if we patch up the hole and bail the water out!"

The crew got buckets and scooped out water. The hole was patched up using the broken wood and some fast-drying glue. "We're going to make it!" thought Force.

Toaster indicated that he would rather take the Armadillo. Spinner understood, but explained that he needed to get to North Island quicker to meet the rest of the army, so he and Racer would try his plan.

Having gone over the plan with Racer, and having kindly been donated some special equipment by Toaster and the Sabres, they set off towards their destination in an old saloon standing nearby.

Late in the day, they arrived. It was dusk, that time of the day when it is tricky to judge distances and things appear deceptively. It was before the time for the Tempests to turn on the lights, but late enough for seeing to be harder than usual.

Stopping the car some distance from their objective, Racer got out with his equipment. Creeping round to the south side, he looked out over the quiet airbase at 1. Nothing much seemed to be going on. The debris caused by Toaster's attack had been cleared away, and the remaining Hercules transports had been put in the hangers. Guards were milling about, but he noted nothing else of interest save a Mosquito on the runway, apparently ready for take off at some time in the near future.

"Heh, heh," chuckled Racer, "Perfect..."

Planting his water dynamite by the wall, he stole away again to a safe distance.

Spinner was waiting in the car with the window down. All was quiet. He looked at his watch again. "Come on...what's he up to?" he asked himself.

Suddenly, he heard an explosion from the direction of the airbase. "Good lad," he smiled to himself, "Now just get back here..."

It seemed like minutes to Spinner, but it was only in reality a few seconds before he heard footsteps and the familiar figure of Racer came bursting through the trees. "Great stuff," he congratulated him, "Let's get going."

Racer threw himself into the passenger seat and grabbed a CPS 1500 as Spinner twisted the ignition key and the engine started. Accelerating down the lane, the base gates, open, move into view around the bend.

The car was upon the guards and Racer opened fire before they realised what was happening, since all eyes were on the commotion on the south side where Racer had detonated the water dynamite. They were through the gates in an instant and headed for the Mosquito, while the guards behind them started to yell. Only a couple of hundred yards to go though...one hundred...fifty...

Screeching to a halt by the plane, Spinner and Racer leapt out. The sole guard flung up his hands when confronted by the two intruders, dropping his gun and running away. "Leave him alone, go for the aircraft," stated Spinner, but there was no need. Already Racer was clambering in to the navigator's position, and Spinner followed him in. "Let's go," he said, starting up the mighty Rolls-Royce Merlin engines and opening the throttle.

The crowd of hostiles was drawing nearer though, and water started to rip into the fuselage. Spinner gritted his teeth and opened the throttle further. Slowly, picking up speed, the aircraft started to roll down the runway, gaining speed more and more as the crowd started to be left behind.

"It's been ages since I've flown an aeroplane," murmured Spinner, as much to himself as to anybody else. "I hope I haven't lost the touch," he remarked further, as the end of runway drew closer.

"Come on baby..." he said, gritting his teeth.

The aeroplane started to loosen, but the runway was running out. 100 yards...90...80...and the aeroplane was up. Spinner and Racer held their breath as they came towards the perimeter fence, but as the aeroplane passed the obstacle with only inches to spare, they relaxed and punched fists. "We did it!"

The ground and figures grew rapidly smaller as the Mosquito climbed for height. Making out the Armadillo, Spinner blipped the engines as a greeting, and saw Toaster wave in reply. Levelling out at 10,000 feet, Spinner pointed the aircraft towards North Island and started to cruise, at a speed of 270 mph.

Duxburian was still able to navigate, although conditions had gone from bad to worse. Zach, a militia member, was the only other person in a sailboat with enough experience to battle through the storm. His was the only other sailboat Duxburian could still see. Forceuser's boat was off to the left somewhere, but the waves were so large that they blocked it from view.

Then, Duxburian turned to see a rogue wave approaching his boat. He braced for it, and with a crack the mast was gone. Nearby a ship fell apart and Duxburian helped the militia onto his own boat. The shore lay directly ahead. His boat was picked up by a wave and tossed toward the beach. Duxburian, barely able to hang on, watched another boat get crushed under the wave he was on. The wave carried him past the beach and slammed the boat into a large tree. There it disintegrated and Duxburian along with two militiamen

grabbed onto a branch and remained there while the fierce winds battered the tree.

"Heh, heh...Perfect...And I loaded some guns I had in my backpack underneath you," said Racer. "Great, how far do we have to go still?" "Dunno, radar's broken. Give me the screwdriver in my backpack," said Racer while pressing the 'Radar On' button. Once Racer got it fixed, they calculated the distance. They approximated that they would be there in half an hour going 280 mph.

"Now we just sit back, fly the plane, and wait..." said Spinner.

Forceuser left the crew bailing out water and took the helm again. He steered the boat round to the east, heading for 8. He had to turn with all his strength against the waves. He increased the speed of the boat up to maximum, hoping the engine would hold out.

A wave crashed into the side of the boat sending everyone flying. Luckily they all managed to hold on. The boat entered the river heading up to 8. The waves were bouncing off the banks, battering the boat. To his relief, Force spotted a barrier mostly surrounding the docks. If they could reach that, they would be safe.

The boat crawled its way to the barrier. Just as they were passing through it, a massive wave hit the boat from the side hurtling it towards the barrier. "Crap!" thought Force. He slammed the wheel to one side. The boat skimmed past the edge of the barrier. The boat passed through. Calm.

Force drove it up to the dock. He jumped onto the solid wood and tied the boat up. "Welcome to the North Island!" he shouted out. He then collapsed to the ground due to exhaustion.

The militiamen grabbed the all the equipment, along with Monsoon and Force, and ran for the nearest building. They rushed inside, wet and exhausted. There was no way they could do anything for everyone else in this weather, so they decided to sit tight and recover.

"Fifteen more minutes of flying should see us there," Racer cried exultantly, "Not far to go at all."

However, his face changed, and he frowned as visibility dropped. "Looks like we're in for some rough weather," he mentioned to Spinner, "Might not be so easy after all."

Strong winds and turbulence started to buffet the Mosquito. Rain spattered against the aircraft, making it harder to see. "I'm aiming to land at 11, but it'll be rather tricky in these conditions. Here goes." So saying, he sideslipped towards the ground.

"I can't see," complained Spinner, "It's so black and wet..."

"We must be in the right area," confirmed Racer, "GPS indicates that we are."

"OK," replied Spinner, keeping his eyes on the altimeter.

5000 feet...

2500 feet...

1000 feet...

500 feet...

250 feet...

"Get ready," said Spinner, "This might be rough."

200 feet...

100 feet...

50...

30...

20...

10...

Bump.

Swaying wildly, the Mosquito's wheels hit the ground and bounced once, twice, and on the third time stabilised. Spinner fought the controls to regain control of the direction as the aeroplane skewed in all directions. Slowly, so slowly for the occupants, the plane's speed gradually reduced down to a standstill.

Spinner and Racer took a deep breath, then collapsed in their seats with fatigue. All communications would have to wait till tomorrow.

New chapter

The sailboat was totalled. The patched up hole was bigger, tearing the boat apart, and the sail was snapped off. Other crews from the motorboats were aiding the sailboat squads.

"At least there aren't any Tempests on this entire island," said Monsoon. "I wouldn't say that yet, they're pretty tricky," suggested Force, "They probably have an underground base or something to keep quiet on this isolated island."

Monsoon looked at 8. It was densely populated, which was weird for a small isolated island, and contained all the shops for provisions they needed. A working radio from a motorboat clicked on and buzzed for a bit, but nothing came through. "Hey, I wonder how Spinner and Racer made it here!" said Force. He and Monsoon went to look for a vacant house in 8 to sleep in until the morning.

The next day, Monsoon and Force woke up inside an old abandoned church in the downtown district of 8. Wondering where the rest of the militia was, they sprung up and went outside. "What about the other sailboat with Dux inboard?" asked Monsoon. "I've heard that they landed on the southern beach and wrecked the boat," said Force.

The militia established a small compound on the beach near the lighthouse. Inside was Dux and the rest of the militia. "Hey, has anyone heard anything from Racer or Spinner?" asked Force. "No, nothing has come up on our radios," said Dux.

This worried Force, so he grabbed a map of the island and took Monsoon with him. "Do you still have your CPS 4100 with you?" he asked. "Yep, I never leave anywhere without it," Monsoon replied. With soakers slung over their shoulders, Force and Monsoon set off to find Racer and Spinner.

"Perhaps they took a plane or helicopter and landed at 11?" said Monsoon. "Maybe so, but I doubt it. Maybe they went off course and went all the way around to the northern beach?" said Force. The two were taking the road out of 8.

Racer stirred in his seat. The sun was shining into the cabin and the clock read about 10 in the morning. Rubbing his eyes, he noticed a small group of people clustered round the aircraft. "Spinner, wake up, we've got company." Spinner grunted, then emerged from his slumber. "What's up?" he asked. Racer indicated the people talking excitedly to themselves. "Suppose we'd better give them an explanation."

Clambering out of the cabin, the two airmen blinked in the sunlight. Raising his arms in a gesture of friendship, Spinner began.

"Greetings! We come from the South Island, where a terrible force has arisen to take over the land. We captured this aircraft and came to seek safety here, where we can regroup and prepare to rid the islands of the Tempest scourge."

He spoke for several minutes, finishing with "And my friend and I are very hungry, so is there anywhere we can get breakfast?"

The men were friendly, and led the duo off to a roadside trailer-café.

Just as they were leaving 8, Force spotted a motorbike hire shop. He looked at Monsoon, "Fancy going the quick way?" Force hired them a couple of bikes. They jumped on them and roared off to 11.

It didn't take long and soon they were there. They pulled to a stop at the airstrip. Both looking straight at the Mosquito. "Well, this could either mean good news or bad news," Monsoon said. They got off their bikes and approached it, weapons ready. They found the aircraft empty. "Well, whoever was in it as gone now," Force commented.

At the roadside trailer-café, Spinner had heard two motorbikes come up the road. He looked out the window. "That looks like Forceuser and Monsoon," he thought, "Wait, it is!"

He rushed outside and called them over. Seeing him, they were relieved. Force looked in through the window at Racer feasting away and then looked at Spinner, his stomach hungry, "Mind if we join you for breakfast? We can have a nice friendly chat." "Sure, come in."

Toaster had finished waving to the Mosquito as it jetted north when he decided that maybe they could improvise a quicker way off the island as well. Looking at the airstrip through his spotting scope, he could make out two hangars with Hercs inside.

"Dang," Toaster thought, "I thought I got all of those, but oh well." But then Toaster thought of a way to use it to his advantage. Telling Wontwood to break out the Cs Mines, he instructed the team on his plan. After doing so, his team took their positions as Wontwood scampered off, the explosives in his pack.

After about five minutes, half a dozen simultaneous explosions rocked the far walls of the compound as Wontwood dashed back, detonator in his hand. Revving the engine, Bukan sent the Armadillo roaring towards 1, as Wontwood clambered up the side. Toaster was seated at the controls for the Broadsword, and took careful aim at one of the Herc hangars. Firing dead on, the hangar and its contents imploded like a house of cards on a tissue paper plane.

Pulling up to the second hangar, Toaster hopped out and let the crew defend the vehicle as he scrambled into the Herc. Like always, the Herc was fuelled and ready to go. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he admonished the Tempests as the door in the back of the plane swung down.

He locked the doors before they got on the ground, and began to taxi the behemoth aircraft down the runway. As per instructions, Bukan gave chase. Just as the plane reached takeoff velocity, Toaster felt the thunk of the Armadillo rolling into the bay. Closing the doors and pulling up on the stick, the Sabre commander made good their well-executed escape. Just before the doors closed on the back, Wontwood drilled a line in the airstrip with the Broadsword.

Force and Monsoon were headed off to 11.

"Hey, where's Ed and the-uh-other two?" Monsoon asked.

"Dunno. I've left a message with that bike-shop guy. Those guys are pretty sharp, they'll know where to look," Force said.

Monsoon sniggered. "Maybe they got bored of the fight and decided to do...something else."

"Oh no you don't, you're not putting ideas in my head," Force admonished. "Anyway, Ed doesn’t seems to be the type to care that much about relationships."

"Maybe, but anyway, will he know where to find us?"

"Dunno..."

"You're renting another car?" Ed exclaimed at Rick.

"Why not? We've got cash, we use it."

"There won't be enough to go around!" Nat said.

"I didn't say I was going to get it, Nat, relax! I just wanted to see what they have," Rick tried to assure the duo.

"Dammit. Those two worry so much!" Rick thought.

"Fine. But tell me what they've got before - ah forget it, I'm going with ya." Ed followed Rick and Nat into the shop.

(5 minutes later)

A yellow Honda hatchback left the shop.

"Fit. Weird name for a car..." Nat wondered aloud.

"That's the Jap market's name for it. Rest of SEA and Europe, they call it the Jazz. 1.5 SOHC engine, equipped with VTEC, front-wheel-drive layout."

"VTEC, I've heard of it. How does it help the engine?" Rick asked.

"I dunno how to explain how it works, but it helps the fuel economy and smoothness at low engine speeds while boosting power output to that of a larger engine at high RPMs - theoretically, the best of both worlds. However, there is a need to shift more regularly to achieve its full potential, which is what I'm going to try."

"What, now?" Rick and Nat asked together.

"Why not? There's no one else on the road," Ed said, "Fasten your seatbelts." He grinned and downshifted.

The front spun from the sudden acceleration, and the mild buzz of the VTEC engine filled the passenger compartment.

"Oh dang, here we go again," Rick moaned. He didn't exactly enjoy being in the Trueno during their recent escape from the South Island.

"Our first drive, Jazz. Lemme know a little about ya, OK gal?" Ed thoughtspoke to the car (he did that every time he drove fast).

The rev needle went up to 6000 RPM, and stopped.

"A rev limiter...Your mum didn't like ya to be pushed too hard, did she?" Ed thought as he shifted up.

"It's OK, gal. I know when to stop. You'll tell me won't you?"

"Er, Ed?" Nat pointed at the rather sharp corner coming up.

"I know."

"Left-foot braking...I could try it now..."

Downshift to fourth. Third. Use left foot on brake, right foot stay on accelerator. The rev needle was bouncing at the six.

"You could have a nicer voice, but maybe I'm expecting too much of you..." Ed was referring to the exhaust note. "Stay inside, exit corner – it’s...OK."

"Ed, I think we should stop. I'm getting hungry, and besides..." Nat glanced at Rick, who had gone slightly pale.

"Oh, OK." "We'll continue another time, Jazz. Be patient..." he thought, as he slowed to enter a makeshift parking lot beside a trailer. He saw two bikes parked there too.

"Hey guys, we're here!" Force waved for them to notice when they entered.

"Hey. So, anything new?" Nat asked as Ed got chairs (Rick wasn't pale by now).

Force was sitting enjoying his full English breakfast when the radio buzzed. He had made sure he picked up the radio when they left the boat so Monsoon couldn't lose it again.

Force put the radio to his ear, "Hello." "Force, it's Dux. Have you found Spinner and Racer yet?" "Yep, they flew over in a Mosquito. We're with them now." "Good. We're leaving the beach now and heading for 12. We're going to set up base there. It is well protected and is exactly what we're looking for." "Roger that. We'll head over there when we're ready."

Force put the radio down and told everyone else what was going on. They quickly finished their food and set about leaving. "What are we going to do about the Mosquito?" Racer enquired. "We can lock it up in that small hanger over there," Force explained.

Soon, they were ready to leave. Force and Monsoon were on the bikes and Spinner and Racer went in the Jazz with Ed and co. They prepared to set off on the road back through 8 to 12. Force looked at everyone else, "Anyone fancy a race?" He revved his engine and roared off.

"Bring it on!" shouted Racer while shoving Ed out of the driver's seat. "Now don't you worry Jazz, Racer's a good driver," thought Ed to the car as they cut a turn. "Ed, grab the map, navigate me."

"There's a shortcut from this area to the fort entrance," said Ed. "Good, get me there," replied Racer. "Umm...Racer..." said Spinner while pointing at a sign that said 'Bridge Out'. "Oh great!" said Ed with head in his hands. "Don't worry, we'll make it," said Racer while shoving the stick into fifth.

"Where are they going?" thought Force as he saw Racer, in his mirror, swerve off down a side road, "Oh well, I can still beat them." He took a glance at the speedometer. 100 mph.

He had to slow down as he approached 8. He zipped through, weaving between the cars. It didn't take long for him to pass out the other side. He accelerated again. He felt the air wanting to rip him off the bike, so he clung on tighter.

The road was narrow here, being only the access to 12. Force hoped that there was nothing on the road, because there wasn't enough room to pass at this speed. As he rounded the next corner, his fears came true. A car. No, two cars. A broken down car in front, and a tow truck behind. Force saw only one option. He carried on going.

The front wheel of his bike hit the ramp on the back of the tow truck. Force felt the bike jerk. He kept it steady. The bike flew up the ramp and over. Force experienced the sensation of flight. He went straight over the hedge in front of him, where the road curved off, and over the next hedge, where the road curved back again. The bike slammed to the ground. Force felt the suspension compress. The bike threatened to skid out of control. Deftly controlling it, Force kept it going.

Part of Force told him to slow down now, after that close escape, but part of him wanted to carry on and win. The latter part won. He kept his eye on the right of the road, waiting for Racer to pop out of a side road.

"Whatcha worrying about? I know how to do jumps," Racer said.

Ed was glaring at Racer. "D'you know exactly who rented this car? I'm not rich, ya know!" he snapped as the supermini landed on the other side of the wasted bridge.

"Shut up, you two! We're totally squeezed here, we don't need more fatigue!" Spinner said. They shut up.

"Let's hope the suspension holds," thought Ed as they saw Force's bike ahead.

Toaster was getting pretty tired. He wasn't an actual pilot, but he was the closest the Sabres had. It wasn't a smooth ride, and they were all going to be a little bruised by the time they landed, but they were getting there.

Wontwood had secured the Armadillo, and now was sitting in the copilot's chair, watching the various instruments. Toaster was wrestling the yoke, trying to keep the Herc level as they soared (sort of) towards North Island. He'd kept his altitude pretty high, seeing the remnants of a pretty bad storm dissipating. Wontwood informed him that they were nearing the island.

Coming low over the plains, the Herc was slowing down, preparing to land on the field. Surprisingly, the landing went off as well as could be expected for the conditions. She wouldn't fly again until someone could get her to a runway, but she was intact (except for scratches in the paint). The back door cantilevered open and a minute later the Armadillo rolled out of the bay.

"Welcome to North Island." Toaster said to the crew. Locking up the Herc, the Sabres then headed for the nearest road, one that Toaster had spotted during the descent.

New chapter

12 was the perfect fortification for the militia. It was enormous. The entire castle was bigger than 8. The thick stone walls and moat were perfect defence measures. The scout towers at each corner made it impossible to be surprised by the enemy. It was medieval in construction, but everything was renovated inside.

"This fort will be our main headquarters now. It's far enough away from the shores to be sheltered from the tidal waves the hurricanes make," pointed out Force. Dux, Stingray, Monsoon and the rest of the militia moved inside and made themselves at home.

"The only thing we really need is a private runway - big enough for a Hercules," said Monsoon. "We could also convert an underground cellar room into a computer operations room," suggested Dux.

Stingray was doing a weapon and supply check. Every militia weapon was carried from South Island to North Island. The only concern was the mass of militia cars, trucks, vans, and tanks that were left behind.

A radio on a desk clicked and buzzed, "Hello? Hello? It's Spinner, we've got Ed and his group here, lower the drawbridge!" The drawbridge crew lowered it and a squad of militia came in. With them, Spinner, Ed and Racer.

"If we're not going to get screwed again like we did on the south island, I suggest we set up some kind of satellite system all over the island. It may take a while, but at least if the Tempests try to invade, we'll know about it," said Spinner. "By the way, did the Sabres ever make it over?" asked Racer. "No, there hasn't been any radio messages from them," replied Dux. Monsoon went into the armoury where he was maintaining his CPS 4100.

On the South Island, the Tempests basically took everything over and fortified it. 2 was basically a huge base. All the towns were fenced in with tall barbed wire fences. The caved in part of the tunnel was cleared and the militia's vehicles now all branded the Tempest insignia.

The mountain had a base erected on the summit, complete with satellite towers and air defence turrets. The airfield was filled with Tempest helicopters and Mosquitos. There was only one working Hercules in the hangar. The docks were all lined with turrets. The chances of the militia taking back the South Island were slim...

Militia were scrambling about, getting everything organised. Each room in the fort had its own purpose. The large basement cellar became a two-room communications centre (where radio transmissions and satellite imagery were processed, or used, etc.) and a middle-floor dining hall which had no windows and one door, became an armoury.

The other building inside the fort was a huge garage, where the motorcycles and few cars were stored. It seemed like the perfect haven from the Tempests. Not only that, but the fact that there wasn't any Tempest activity on the entire island was a plus.

Another radio clicked and buzzed, "Sir, we've set up fences around 8 and the road leading to 12 is now toll-operated," said a militia squad. "Now that 8 is secure, we have to build ourselves a private runway," suggested Monsoon. "I think that recruiting more militia on the mainland would be even smarter. The Tempests outnumber us by...by...a lot!" said Racer. "We also have a small compound in every town on the island," said Dux, "They each are setting up a satellite dish."

"What about the forests here? Could there be any Tempest activity there?" asked Force. "Not until the radar is set up. We also need to design a type of anti-aircraft weapon that can be turret mounted," said Stingray. The others nodded.

"Okay, here's the plan: Force and Monsoon can gather some men and get working on the private runway. Racer and Ed's group can recon the woods. Me and Dux will get working on the radar system, OK?" said Spinner. The group all nodded and got to work.

The south island was festering with Tempests. The new tank design that was transported from the mainland on the Hercules were devastating in weapon design. Monsoon's stealth tank was stolen and so were all the other customised vehicles.

A squad of three Tempest troops patrolled the streets of every town and dock. Tanks rumbled along in waypoints along all the roads, all armed with anti aircraft weapons.

The Tempest commander grumbled, "Those cowards made the wrong move. With an entire island under my complete control, they have no choice but to surrender when I attack the North Island. Just they wait..." The commander swirled around in his office chair once and laughed. "They have no idea what we have in store for them! Maybe I'll give them a taste of what's coming for them!" he said.

He pushed a button on the control panel in front of him. A huge flap of fake ground opened on the mountainside and revealed a large missile. The missile rumbled and launched. It rocketed towards North Island.

"Wait, guys. Rick needs to learn how to fight properly. His skills are rather low compared to ours for now. Sorry Rick, but it's the truth." Rick was starting to scowl.

"He's gotta rather small build. Maybe he could be the scout leader," Racer suggested.

"And maybe he could work with me and Nat, I dunno," Ed said. "So why don't you train him?" Nat asked Ed, who shrugged.

"I'm no teacher, but I could try - wait, what's that?" He heard something in the sky.

"Dammit, what the heck is it?" Force said. "It's a missile! Blue striping!" Rick yelled.

Ed growled, "Dammit, they've got everything!"

"Incoming! Get down!" Monsoon yelled.

Nothing exploded, though. It just hit the ground and got stuck standing upside down as the fuel burned off, then it flopped on its side.

"What the hell..." Nat murmured. Then the rocket ejected a capsule at the group. As it landed at their feet, something played inside - a tape recorder.

"This rocket does not have our special warheads installed, I wouldn't want to waste them now, would I? Be warned though, I have quite a number of these missiles just waiting for launch," the voice laughed coldly, "By the way, I've dropped a few...goodie bags for your troops. I'm sure they'll like it." And the recorder switched off.

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