Dawn broke with a plethora of splendid morning colors, radiating above Blue Rock - a small oil-producing town in western Texas. Michael had long since fallen asleep, as KITT covered the remaining distance in welcome solitude. Sometimes KITT just needed some time alone, since he and Michael were nearly always together in some form or another. Although he was still stuck there, with the lanky overgrown adolescent snoring at an odd pitch, he knew that more relaxation would soon come. After all, this was vacation, and Michael would surely involve himself in many of the local activities, which would leave KITT alone in peace with no worries, other than how to defeat himself at chess. As they just entered the main area of town, scattered with a few early risers, a crackle came over KITT’s speakers, and a familiar sequence began to unfold.

KITT cringed at the thought of having to wake up Michael, for both their sakes, but nevertheless, sounded a tone that brought Michael quickly out of his slumber.

“Whaa...what is it, KITT? I told you not to wake me up like that!” he griped.

“Sorry Michael, believe me, if only I could leave you to your siesta...but Devon’s calling.”

The screen lit up with Devon’s unique character, as Michael managed to muster some mangled form of “Yo, Devon...”, which turned into an unsuppressed yawn halfway through his greeting.

“Ah, Michael. I see you’ve been taking a nap.”

“Yeah, I was...something like that. Listen Devon, I’m sorry, but I’m on vacation here, do you mind? I’ve been promised one now for 2 1/2 years, don’t you think it’s about time?” Michael complained.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Devon’s face was grave, and Michael knew what that meant.

“Oh...ok, but you owe me one very long vacation, right KITT?”

“I am the voice of the Knight Industries Two Thousand, KITT if you prefer...”KITT rambled, obviously hoping to avoid the usual hassle over vacations.

“Ha ha, very funny, wise guy. Anyway, what’s the trouble, Devon?”

“Does the name Jean Rick mean anything to you?”

“Uh, no, why?”

“It soon will. You are to meet her at O’Malley’s Bar and Grill today at precisely 10 o’clock. She will explain the details of your mission. And Michael, as always, be careful.”

“Later Devon.”

Michael could not help his feeling of disgust as the connection with Devon faded out. Once again, his plan of a serene vacation had come crashing down. “Oh well,” he thought aloud, “maybe this Jean lady will be worth the extra work.”

“Remember Michael, this is official business.”

“KITT, I am offended! Me, mix business with pleasure? Never!” he replied with heavy irony.

“That’s what worries me...” KITT’s voice trailed off, as the two set course for the town’s sole restaurant and entertainment location.

The famous crooning of Jones and Wynette escaped through the fake swinging doors as another, less romantic couple pulled up - Michael and KITT, that is. A row of Harleys leaned on kickstands outside, customized in the colors of the Satan’s Serpents, causing KITT to instinctively caution Michael, “Be careful.”

“You sound like the directions on a Drano bottle. Don’t worry, I know how to handle this type,” Michael assured, dismissing the warning.

“I’ll be here if you need me, anyway.”

Michael had already shut KITT’s door, but caught the last bit, hearing most of it through his ComLink. He walked past a couple rough looking bikers, who paid him little more attention than a brief glance. Seated by herself at a corner booth was a silvery haired lady of her late fifties. She appeared extremely misplaced, her level of refinement quite above that of her surroundings. Though Michael felt a wave of disappointment, from crushed expectations of youthful radiance, he stifled his emotions and took a seat next to her.

“Ms. Rick, I presume?”

“One and the same. I assume you’re from the Foundation? They told me you’d be coming, but they didn’t tell me you were so handsome,” she added in a girlish tone, “I was expecting a balding, overweight official-looking type.”

“Well I’m sorry to disappoint you. Guess that’s what you get for expectations, eh?” he replied with his most convincing grin; the thought was actually for himself, but he didn’t let it show.

“Did I say anything about disappointment?”

After their chuckles subsided, Ms. Rick’s expression sobered, “I have a problem, um, Mr....”

“Knight, but please, just call me Michael.”

“Yes, Michael, I have a problem. For 15 years, I’ve been running a small oil company a few miles out of town. I made it fine for a long time, until recently...gas prices have been going down, and it’s been tough getting ends to meet.”

“And you want me to try forcing the local refineries and gas stations to bump up the price, right? Lady, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but I think you’ve got the wrong guy...”

“Hardly” she cut in, “for a long time, National Petroleum has tried to buy me out. I didn’t think anything of it, till just a while ago.”

“What happened?”

Her mood shifted, and she seemed to grow quite cautious as she leaned a bit forward, and nearly whispered, “Someone has sabotaged our wells; I think it’s National Petroleum, but I can’t prove it.”

“Oh, I see,” Michael responded, “and you want me to find out who’s responsible.”

At that moment, a cry from across the room caught Michael’s ear, as one of the bikers had apparently given some unwelcome affection to a young, blonde waitress.

Michael immediately came to her aid, calling out, “Hey, back off, pal!” as he pushed the biker out of the way.

“Are you all right? He asked the girl, relieved that he had been there to help her.

“Yeah, I’m all right, but I don’t know if my boyfriend, Zeke, is,” she looked a bit concerned, as Michael’s face paled.

“Boyfriend..., Zeke? Uh oh.”

Michael turned to face the massive hulk of a man, stuttering and stammering, “Nice Zeke..., easy boy.”

Then, before the biker could react, Michael slammed his fist into his rather large beer belly, and pushed the roughneck into the rest of his buddies.

“KITT, I need you, now!” he nearly screamed into the ComLink as he sprinted for the door.

“I’m coming, Michael,” KITT declared as he quickly sequenced himself into action, and came sliding around to the front, flinging his driver side door open all in one motion. A frantic Michael came at full steam, bursting through the swinging doors, and jumping nearly headlong into KITT, breathing heavily from his brush with danger.

“Thanks buddy,” he panted as KITT sped away, leaving a swarm of very angry bikers behind, choking from the dust that he left hanging stubbornly in the air, “I owe you one.”

“You owe me 23, actually, to be exact.”

“Twenty three what? What could you possibly want with money?”

“Not 23 dollars, 23 times. That’s the number of times I’ve come to your rescue, in recent memory, at least.”

“Well thank you, KITT, I appreciate it; and that’s all you’re getting for now.”

“You’re too kind.”

The first thing Michael knew he had to do was get back in touch with Ms. Rick, after the abrupt ending to their last conversation. He had KITT scan his database for local phone listings, very readily finding a Jean J. Rick. They quickly set on their course for Highland Estates, an area composed of Blue Rock’s better off.

“I wonder which one...”Michael mused as they eased down the brick driveway connecting all the elaborate homes; some were nothing short of mansions.

“Might it be the one with the mailbox reading, J. J. Rick, Michael?”

Michael stiffened a bit, declaring, “I saw that.”

“Of course you did,” KITT replied, obviously elated for spotting it first.

“She should be home by now, I’m hoping. That extra-long stop at the gas station gave her plenty of time.

“That stop was absolutely necessary. Any lower on fuel and you’d be roller skating for the rest of the mission. Besides, the twenty lottery tickets you bought from the red-head inside didn’t speed it up any.”

“Ok, ok, point taken,” Michael gave up on that one, refocusing to prepare for another meeting with Ms. Rick. “This time, I shouldn’t need any help.”

“Very well. I’ll be enjoying the fresh air, and exquisite view.”

“You do that buddy, you do that.”

Michael left KITT, striding confidently up to the front door. A smirking gargoyle greeted him from his position atop a small concrete pedestal. He grabbed the knocker, and gave three quick raps, shortly followed by another round. Before too long, the door opened to reveal a short, husky butler.

“May I help you, sir?” the butler asked.

“Uh, yeah, I’m here to see Ms. Rick. Knight’s the name. Michael Knight.”

“I’ll tell her you’re here, Mr. Knight.”

A few moments later, the butler reappeared at the door, instructing Michael, “Ms. Rick will see you on the patio.

“Very well then,” Michael responded in a jokingly haughty manner, “I would be most delighted to join her.”

The glimmering pool contrasted wonderfully with the lush surroundings of tropical plants, positioned perfectly around the pool. “Odd selection,” Michael thought,

“for western Texas”.

A splash came from behind him, which Michael whirled around to see, thinking someone had fallen into the pool. To his complete satisfaction, however, he found a young woman of about 22, who had slipped into the pool while he pondered so profoundly.

Clad in a yellow two-piece bikini, she caused Michael to nearly forget why he came anyway.

“Hi, I’m Rachel,” she greeted him, bouncing to shed the rest of her excess water, “are you ok?”

Michael’s blank expression said it all, and she’d seen enough men to understand the situation.

“Well, I hope I run into you again sometime soon,” she finished, halfway skipping back into the colonial-style house.

It was too late for her to hear him, but he replied, “you will, I guarantee...”.

After he finally snapped out of his brief trance, he could hear Ms. Rick calling from several feet away. “Mr. Knight! Very good to see you again. I was worried after that little, um, incident earlier.”

“Ah, well, it wasn’t anything serious. I’ve been through a thousand o’ those.”

“Hah, yes, well...I bet you have. Anyway, Mr. Knight, about current business.”

“I’ve been thinking about that myself; I’ve got a plan.”

“Oh? Well let’s hear it.”

“All right. Now you say you think National Petroleum has been sabotaging your wells?” Michael asked, thought evident on his face.

“Well, yes, what’s your idea?” she queried, suddenly interested in the look of Michael’s expression.

“We’ll set a trap for them. Which wells have been hit so far?”

“Let me think....um, numbers 2, 7, 12 and 19. Why does that matter?”

“Maybe KITT can establish a pattern, to predict where they might strike next. I’ll have him start on it now.”

“KITT? Who’s KITT?” she wondered.

“Oh, just a partner of mine.”

“I see.”

“I’ve got to go meet with him now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Certainly, and Michael, thanks for everything.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Michael warned, “this won’t be as easy as it sounds.”

Walking around the antiquish home, he ran into Rachel again, spraying water carelessly over a bed of flowers. She turned to water the flowers on the opposite side of the walkway, leaving the water running at full pressure. While absorbed in “Walk Like an Egyptian”, she turned, imitating the actions known so well, and soaked Michael from top to bottom, before noticing that he was even standing there. Any other time, Michael would’ve been rather upset, but he couldn’t hide the humor he saw in the situation.

“Heh, you could be a little more careful with that, you know.”

“Sorry.” Her actions denied her words though, as she was clearly amused.

“Ah, yeah.”

Climbing back into KITT, Michael dreaded the comments he knew were coming, such as, “Been swimming with your clothes on again?” and so forth. However, KITT remained mostly silent, saying very little at first.

Michael grew curious, and questioned KITT, “what’s on your mind, buddy?”

“Well, I was just wondering.”

“What’s that?”

“Why do people enjoy getting wet?”

“What do you mean?”

“Based on your reactions, you appeared to enjoy the experience. I can’t compute such things; believe me, car washes are not the most pleasant things.”

“I guess some things you just can’t calculate. Speaking of such...can you find a map of Independent Oil’s owning, and superimpose the positions of all her major oil wells?”

“Right away, Michael.”

A few seconds later, a map marked with all of Independent Oil’s property, small dirt roads, and oil wells designated by number appeared. The screen looked like a children’s Connect-the-Dots game, except this was real.

“Ok, now highlight well numbers 2, 7, 12 and 19.”

As KITT did so, a sort of crude zig zag pattern appeared.

“By the looks of this, it seems as though the next hit should be somewhere in the area of wells 22 to 27, if we’re lucky.”

KITT was curious, “what are you intending to do?”

“We’re gonna set a trap, ole buddy, just you and me.”

“Oh dear, I was afraid you’d say something like that.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to it. We’ll just hide ourselves real nice, and wait for them to come. Then we’ll take their pictures with your night-vision camera, and present it to the authorities.”

“I suppose that doesn’t sound so bad,” KITT remarked, nearly impressed with the plan’s simplicity.

“Hey, would you really expect any less from a seasoned veteran?”

“Which is why I was mildly surprised by your plan, to be frank,” KITT responded, more sincere than sarcastic.

“KITT,” Michael interjected.

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Michael spent the rest of the day asking the locals all about National Petroleum, but no one seemed to have anything to say. It was as if the entire town had some fear of speaking to a stranger, or perhaps just a fear of speaking in general. After he realized some three hours into his questioning that he wasn’t making any headway, he retired to the rather dilapidated hotel to rest and regroup. KITT didn’t mind at all, taking advantage of the extra time to brush up on his Spanish, and download a rather thorough history of the area surrounding Blue Rock. The area had once been known for its mining of exotic metals, such as platinum, mercury and high-grade gold, but since the discovery of “black gold, Texas tea,” the mining industry gave way to hopeful wildcatters drilling independent wells all over the landscape. Many went broke after discovering little or no oil on the tiny parcel of land they had bought. Some discovered healthy reservoirs of crude, but after exhausting their funds on drilling, had no means for the extraction or marketing of their potential wealth. Situations like these proved easy targets for the mega-corporation National Petroleum, but one small, family-owned company resisted. Founded by Eugene Rick III, Independent Oil held firmly to its land, believing that its value far surpassed the total of its oil reserves. Rather, to the Rick family, the range of oil wells near Son Canyon represented a way of life, meant to be passed on down the family line to the very last Rick. So naturally, when Eugene passed away of a heart attack in 1973, Jean continued the family tradition, and took the reins of a successful oil business in the midst of an unprecedented boom. Only now, under below-the-table pressure from National Petroleum, did Jean finally need help.

CHAPTER TWO

“Time to rock and roll,” Michael declared, “Stealth Mode,” as they covered the last stretch of ground toward Son Canyon. In Stealth Mode, KITT could electronically cancel out his own noise, making him virtually undetectable to the ear, or any listening devices. By using his infrared beams rather than ordinary headlights, and projecting an image on the windshield, Michael could easily see well enough to navigate, yet without the dead giveaway of piercing high-beams. Cautiously they crept across the desert, a black phantom surrounded by an expanse of laboring steel skeletons. Only the brilliant trail of KITT’s scanner broke the darkness - something Michael suddenly noticed.

“KITT.”

“Yes, Michael?”

“Ever seen a lighthouse in the desert?”

“Not according to my data banks.”

“Turn down your scanner.”

“As you wish, Michael, but I must caution you; my ability to detect intruders will be severely diminished.”

“How much are we talking about?”

“It could limit me to as little as 1/4 of my usual range. I only hope that the flat landscape will aid my efforts.”

“Me too, pal, me too.”

With that, KITT’s bright crimson scanner turned to a hardly noticeable glow, as they located a cluster of scrub brush behind which to conceal themselves. There they sat for at least a couple of hours, which to Michael, seemed as days.

“What’s going on, KITT?”

“I have insufficient data to issue a judgment at this time. In other words, I’m not picking up any activity outside this vehicle.”

“I don’t like this. Keep your scanners peeled...” Michael’s voice trailed off warily. At this point they could only wait, and hope.

Only a mile and a half away, the hired goons and their boss from National Petroleum drew ever closer to their targets. For two months, they’d found no resistance while sabotaging Independent Oil’s wells adjacent to Son Canyon. Their leader, a stocky Oklahoman, barked final orders to his crew before sending them to their individual missions.

“Tyson, you and Mac hit the 23. Zeke, you go with Gomez to 25. I’ll take Jake with me to finish 26 and 27. Any questions? Good. Now let’s finish this off right!” he snarled into the transceiver, thoroughly intoxicated with his pathetic sense of dominance and power. As the squad of one dusty Jeep, a dune buggy and a Ford F250 neared their destinations, neither they nor Michael and KITT had the slightest hint of the others’ presence. That changed abruptly, however, as the dune buggy of Zeke and Gomez rounded a large rock formation, illuminating the parched earth with its blazing beams. Michael and KITT saw them first, having the advantage of partial concealment.

“We’ve got company,” Michael declared only a split second before KITT could warn, “Michael, a dune buggy is approaching at approximately sixty miles per hour.”

“Ok, buddy, get your infrared cam ready. They’re going to receive some free Glamour Shots, compliments of the Foundation.”

“With all due respect, Michael, I don’t think Devon would approve of such a frivolous endeavor.”

“Can it, wise guy.”

While they bantered, the buggy drew nearer still, which quickly sobered the mood.

“Michael, if they get much closer, they’ll spot us.”

“I know” Michael shifted uncomfortably, “just keep it rolling.”

The monitor clearly displayed the buggy as it finally drew to a stop near the well. Gomez hopped out first, as Zeke quickly took charge in the absence of their boss.

“Get the crowbar, and snip that power line, too!”

As he spoke his back remained turned from the camera, as Gomez dug through their equipment.

“Come on, Zeke, what say we just use a little of this?” as he proudly flaunted a bar of C4 explosive, “It’ll do the job real well.”

“No,” Zeke rejected flatly, “we’re doing it the way the boss told us to. Now get to it before I make you eat that stuff.”

Gomez only muttered under his breath in reply. All the while, Michael and KITT waited anxiously for conclusive proof to show the feds. Without a documented attempt to damage Independent Oil’s property, along with positive identification, their mission would only prove meaningless. Then, without any apparent reason, Zeke turned and directly faced KITT, completely unaware. Elated at last for a chance to capture Zeke’s image, Michael requested, “Now zoom in on this guy.”

As his image grew larger, he appeared to stare directly at Michael, as if glancing in a mirror. Squinting at first, he seemed merely curious, before taking a few leisurely steps forward. The closer he came, the more his expression changed from one of idle interest to one of suspicion. Michael’s stomach tightened, then quivered uneasily; KITT remained silent for as long as he could. He had to say something, if for no other reason than to control and calm his jumpy circuits.

“Michael, if he comes much closer, we’ll be discovered.”

“That’s ok, pal, I’m not worried about us. I just want to nail these creeps. As it is, we don’t have enough evidence to do that yet. If we blow it this time, we might not get another chance.”

Zeke inched ever closer, till he finally drew within15 feet.
“Get ready to split if he gets any closer. We can’t risk discovery at this stage,” Michael nearly whispered, even though he knew that KITT was soundproof.

At that distance, even behind cover, the soft glow of KITT’s scanner reached Zeke. In rapid succession, Zeke suddenly turned and yelled to his cohort.

“Hey Gomez! Get the boss, we’ve got company!”

At the same instant, Michael reacted, “That’s it, KITT, time to move!” as he jammed KITT into gear and floored the accelerator. KITT shot out from behind the brush before Zeke even had the opportunity to blink, leaving him choking on dust, and struggling for his pistol in vain.

“Get him!” he shouted at Gomez as loudly as possible between coughs.

Always eager to utilize force, Gomez shouldered his AR-15, and took aim. As KITT picked up speed, with turbines whining at full thrust, the thug sprayed his windshield and passenger side windows with a hail of supposed armor-piercing bullets. He watched in amazement as their only effect was a spectacular display of brilliant white sparks, which lit up the surrounding sky and earth along with the oil rig rising directly behind Gomez. One of the shots ricocheted, missing his feet by a thread, and flattened his oversized right-rear tire. The hooligan let out an assault of curses that dwarfed his rifle attack, which in turn paled next to Zeke’s waxing wrath. After they had finally calmed down to at least somewhat controlled tones, Zeke muttered through his yet grinding teeth, and set jaw, “Punks. They still gotta get past the boss,” adding with a demonic grin, “this should be fun.” With that, he confidently picked up his transceiver.

“Yeah, let’s go watch the show,” added Gomez.

Michael and KITT made it with ease back to the large rock outcropping, completely unaware of what lay ahead. With their sudden flight, they hadn’t noticed Zeke’s communication with the Boss, nor did they suspect the level of firepower available to their enemy. Now in open terrain, the jeep took the lead, advancing directly toward KITT. The F-250 hung back in the distance, either unwilling to fight, or simply observing. The Jeep drew nearer, as KITT kept accelerating. Their paths would intersect within a matter of seconds, but Michael remained steady. He knew that no weapon short of a missile could harm KITT. The Jeep also continued its course, but held its fire as it drew within one hundred yards.

“KITT, scan the Jeep for firearms. I want to know why they haven’t fired at us yet.”

“Really, Michael,” KITT responded as an underestimated child, “I was about to do that very thing. Consequently, I detect a swivel-mounted .50 caliber automatic weapon mounted in the rear of that vehicle.”

“Then why aren’t they...”

Just then a salvo of staccato fire brushed KITT’s hood, as well as his windshield.

“Well,” Michael grinned, “so they finally decided to play. Sorry, pal,” through gritted teeth, “no game today, but I’ll be back on the field real soon.”

In only a moment they had left the relatively slow Jeep far behind, but Michael couldn’t resist shooting a mocking grin back through the rear-view mirror. As he did, a scene of horror and confusion unfolded. The Jeep, which now appeared as only a speck of light, suddenly burst into brilliant flame, sending a column of illuminated smoke towering toward the heavens.

“Looks like somebody wanted us stopped, and wasn’t pleased at all by us getting by that Jeep.” Michael’s mind was racing, struggling to piece it all together. None of it made any sense. Suddenly he had a vague inspiration. “We’re going back. Somebody might need our help.”

“I don’t understand,” KITT responded honestly, “they were just shooting at us.”

“There’s something strange about all this. We’re going to find out.”

KITT saw that his jaw was set, and knew better than to persist. When Michael became like that he knew there was little use in arguing, for Michael was, if possible, more stubborn than even himself. As they turned and headed back toward the blazing vehicle, KITT entire structure shook violently without warning.

“KITT! What was that?” Michael shouted as he craned his neck around to see. Soon after, another beam of the purest green light struck KITT, nearly blinding Michael. It would have, if not for KITT’s classified window filming, which prevents any form of EM wave from bombarding the car’s interior too strongly. KITT’s answer came quickly.

“That was some form of concentrated energy beam weapon. One more direct hit and my MBS may become severely damaged. I suggest we make a dash for it.”

“No way, pal. We can’t outrun the speed of light. Besides that, we’re going to find out right now why an oil company would need a laser, and where they got it from. Is your laser charged?”

“I’m sorry, Michael. I haven’t needed it in so long - it appears that Bonnie has neglected to charge it’s batteries. I do appear to have enough power left for one shot. However, it will be somewhat below its usual calibrated level.”

“That’s good enough. I’ll get us as close as I can, but first, you micro-jam that laser.”

“I’m trying, but I can’t get access to its circuits.”

“Try harder. If we don’t de-activate that thing we’re in deep trouble.”

Michael weaved a crazy path, coming every closer to the heavy duty pickup with each turn. As the laser danced in pursuit, it made an impressive display, and narrowly missed KITT several times. Finally, KITT broke through its defense circuitry.

“Michael, I’ve got it.”

At last, the deadly spears of light subsided, and Michael was actually happy to see darkness upon the land. With his own laser, KITT destroyed the F-250’s entire left front wheel assembly. It wasn’t completely over yet, though, and the laser operator wasn’t quite ready to give up. Quickly grabbing a grenade launcher, he took careful aim at KITT. He soon gave up that approach, however, as two grenades made no effect on the mysterious, black phantom-car, as he saw it. His run for it brought little avail, as Michael drove KITT effortlessly up beside him, beaming. Out he went, up through KITT’s t-top, and over onto the thug. With his extensive martial arts training, Michael knocked the man out with one fell strike, then hog-tied him. KITT had meanwhile locked the doors to the pickup, and its bulletproof glass couldn’t be broken for escape. The “Boss” was trapped.

“It’s over, KITT. Better call the boys in blue to clean up this mess.”

He then helped himself onto the back of the truck. There he found maps of suspected cesium and uranium deposits. Folding them into his jacket pocket, he turned his gaze upon the laser itself. He had never seen anything exactly like it before. There were no coils nor any of the usual parts associated with a high output laser. Its design was amazingly simple - just a three foot long tube, with an electrode in the middle, and mirrors on each end. “Where would they get something like this?” he asked himself.

“From the government,” said a serious voice from behind. Michael wheeled around sharply, not expecting anyone in the area, but to his surprise, there stood a familiar face.

“Mac!”

“One and the same,” he replied with a slanted grin. The two hugged briefly, before Michael turned back toward KITT.

“Hey pal, why didn’t you tell me someone was coming?”

“He was unarmed. Knowing that, I felt it safe to leave you to yourself for the moment.”

Michael turned back toward Mac. “So YOU were the one in the Jeep, shooting at us?”

“I was in the Jeep, all right, but I didn’t shoot at you. I infiltrated the operation under-cover, but never expected that I’d be called upon to shoot at anyone. As you know, I kinda have a thing about guns. When I wouldn’t use the gun, Tyson threw me out of my own Jeep. He’s a real sport, ya know.”

“So, how are things at the Ph...?”

Seemingly out of nowhere a new threat swept in. A sleek, oil-black helicopter with silver trim swooped directly toward them. Mac took cover beneath the truck, while Michael dived inside KITT. The chopper came around once more, and finally settled itself for landing. When it rested at last on its rails, and its handsome, but world-weary pilot climbed out, Michael could barely believe his eyes. It had been years since the war, but here he stood. Darting out of KITT, he shook hands heartily with this newcomer.

“Mac,” he called, “it’s all right, he’s a friend.”

Crawling out from beneath the truck, Mac gave this “fellow” the once-over.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, have we?” he asserted.

Michael then took over. Mac, I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine. I call him Hawke. We served together back in ‘Nam. Hawke, meet Mac. The three stood sharing their information while the police took the rest of the gang into custody, including Zeke and his trigger happy friend.

Mac told of how he’d been watching National Petroleum for some time, since government resource maps of the area came up missing, along with designs for the laser. Michael filled them in about Ms. Rick asking the foundation for help.

“You too?” Hawke seemed surprised. Ms. Jean Rick had notified him only that evening of what was going down, just in case. He had Airwolf sprinting flat out from near Taos, New Mexico, but couldn’t make it in time.

“The lady has connections,” Michael admitted in admiration.

“No kidding,” Hawke agreed, “turns out that she once dated Archangel in her younger days. They were quite the couple until he decided upon a secretive life with the CIA.”

“Talk about paypacks,” Michael quipped.

Later that night at O’Malley’s, Michael caught the eye of that same waitress. This time, however, it ended with Michael obtaining her phone number and address.

“Not a bad day’s work, eh, pal?” he asked KITT on the way back home.

“I wouldn’t say so,” KITT answered. “There’s just one small question I have though.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Who is this ‘Mac’? That is, what is his full name, and what exactly is his business?”
Michael chuckled a bit at that, “All I know is that he works for the Phoenix Foundation, with Pete Thornton. I call him Mac, but as far as I know, his full name is MacGyver.”

“I must say, Michael, that I find that rather peculiar.

“That’s ok, KITT, MacGyver is a peculiar enough fellow, all right.”