Operation Home Front: Summer Lightning
 Author: Trooper Charcharadon, Doberman Empire

          Sumner Base, Kansas
          D minus 3 days

     The helicopter paused on the landing pad just long enough to
   disgorge Trooper Charcharadon and the other supplies it was
   carrying. As Charcharadon shouldered his duffel and gear and
   waved to the pilot, the helicopter rose from the pad and headed
   rapidly off across the fields to ferry yet another load of
   personnel and equipment, keeping low to stay under the radar
   horizon.
    A number of enlisted ratings jumped forward to catalog and
   store the crates which had just been dumped in the landing area.
   Charcharadon managed to flag down one wearing Legion of Doom
   insignia long enough to ask for directions.
    "Sure, sir," he said, gesturing to various tents and temporary
   structures. "Motor pool is that way, PX over there, the O-Club
   and HQ are across the way, and barracks are there, there, and
   there."
    "Thanks. I guess I should find the Quartermaster at HQ an look
   into getting bunk space. Has Warrior Persephone arrived yet?"
    "Not that I know of, sir, but we've been a bit busy here. HQ
   will know."
    Charcharadon smiled. "Thanks. Better move those crates, I think
   I hear another chopper."
         "Yes sir," replied the receding back of the speaker.

    Thirty minutes later, Charcharadon had stashed his gear, gotten
   his quarters (he rated a tent of his own, he found out) into
   suitable shape, and was strolling back into the HQ tent to sort
   out the chain of command and officially report for duty. The
   "Keep Off the Grass" sign someone had erected gave him a
   chuckle. Everything was grass. Except for the parts already worn
   to dirt by constant coming and going.
    "Hey there," he called, managing to flag down a clerical-
   looking person in the organized chaos of the base office. "Has
   Warrior Persephone arrived yet?"
    "Don't think so, let me check...." A few taps on the computer
   keyboard brought the answer. "Negative. Something appears to
   have delayed her arrival, she has yet to give her report to the
   Fleet Commander."
    "Hmm," Charcharadon mused. "Then who's in charge of the Empire
   contingent?"
         "I don't know, sir"
    Charcharadon maneuvered himself behind the desk and tapped a
   few commands over the shoulder of the clerk. "Nobody higher than
   a Trooper reported in yet, huh? Let's see...." He looked over
   the commission dates on the list. "Well, if I officially check
   in," tap tap tap, "that would make the officer with highest
   seniority...me."
         He and the clerk looked at each other.
    "You realize what this means?" Charcharadon asked. The clerk
   nodded. "I am in control." Charcharadon threw his head back and
   let out an Evil Cackle[tm].
    "Well, this will be a first," he continued, reassuming a
   professional demeanor. "Soldier, as ranking officer, I hereby
   take official command of Doberman Empire forces at this base
   until the arrival of Warrior Persephone. All internal reports
   and inquiries are to be sent to me here, I'll take over that
   desk for official work and begin putting things in order. By the
   way, who are the ranking officers of the other JAO's that are
   here?"
    "Well, Colonel Sanford, LOD, and Commander Keith, TRES Corps
   are both on base. Then there's TRES Commander Burdoo, Keith's
   sort of cross-JAO..."
    "OK, good. Please inform them that I have arrived and assumed
   command pro tempore of Empire forces. As soon as I am up on the
   situation I'll meet with them to coordinate the Empire side of
   things. And be sure to inform me the instant that Pers gets here
   so I can get her up to speed."
         "Yes sir."
    With that said, Charcharadon descended on the desk he had
   appropriated and plunged into the glories of his first field
   command. The billeting and storage of personnel and supplies,
   the scheduling of watches, supply shipments, and training, the
   filing of dispatches and issuing of orders; all the logistics of
   assembling an army in haste and turning a field into a base.

     It was several hours before Charcharadon had both cleared
   enough out of the way to be up to date on the situation and
   organized his contingent at HQ to run things smoothly. Leaving
   the machinery of administration to run without him for a while,
   he set off in search of command staff for a little bit of
   strategic planning.
    He found Sanford and Will Keith walking along the base
   perimeter, already discussing between the two of them the
   logistics of the assault. Searching through his memory for
   anything on cross-JAO protocol, Charcharadon settled on a casual
   salute as he introduced himself. "Trooper Charcharadon, Doberman
   Empire, ranking officer on base. Any way I can assist you
   gentlemen until my betters arrive?"
    This elicited some amused chuckling from Sanford - the joke
   appeared to have gone right over Keith's head as he considered.
   "I suppose so, Trooper," stated Colonel Sanford. "The Commander
   and I were just going over some ideas for locating the
   generator."
    Charcharadon blinked almost audibly. "You mean to tell me you
   _don't_ know where it is?"
    "That's an imprecise way of putting it. We know it is within a
   certain area, but not exactly where in that area it is,"
   Commander Keith corrected. "The trouble is, the whole damn
   thing, base, generator, opposing forces and all, is underground.
   So pinpointing it without letting them know we've pinpointed it
   is a bit dicey."
    "Ahh," Charcharadon said, enlightened. "Which would rule out
   aerial and satellite reconnaissance right away. We don't know
   enough about the energy the generator puts out to use passive
   sensors..."
    "...And if we go active, they know we're looking for them and
   flip the switch."
         "What options does that leave us?" Charcharadon asked.
         Commander Keith shook his head. "Not much."
    "Well, I guess we can always SWAG[1] it," Charcharadon mused.
    "On the other hand," said Sanford, I have a spaceship sitting
   in orbit, Will has some knowledge of detection workings, and I
   understand you're one of the best at scientific reasoning,
   reverse engineering and stuff. Perhaps between the three of us,
   there could be found a way to refine our knowledge..."

         *****

     "Well," Charcharadon said as the theoretical discussion
   petered out to its end, "I had better get back to DE
   headquarters here and make sure things haven't come unhinged in
   my absence. Either of you know how many people are going to be
   showing up here?"
    "The call was sent out to everyone who could make it. Several
   thousand I would expect."
    Charcharadon shook his head. "With all the secrecy we're having
   to maintain, I'd hate to be the person placed in charge of
   logistics. That'd be a real bitch of a job."
    The Colonel and the Commander shared what could probably be
   accurately called a Significant Look[tm].
    "What, did I miss something?" asked a puzzled Charcharadon. A
   little part in the back of his mind was screaming *now you've
   gone and done it...*
    With a grin on his face, Colonel Sanford let him in on the
   joke. As usual, it was at his expense. "That would be your job,
   since the Doberman Empire has been allocated the supply side of
   base operations."
    "No, I must object on medical grounds," Charcharadon protested.
   "I have a severe allergy to red tape. It makes me break out in
   hives and get all irritable. Check my medical jacket."
    The other two Jihaddi shared a laugh. "It's what you DE boys
   get for being so well-equipped," Commander Keith said. "You had
   the cargo space, you got the job."
    "Flattery will get you nowhere." Charcharadon gave a resigned
   sigh and walked away muttering, "This is what I get for showing
   up on time."

         to be continued...