Operation Pacifica:  The Latecomer
by Centurion Baraka Tsunami Cadmus, Doberman Empire

[A cabin, far back in the hills of the Shenendoah Valley, Virginia.]

   Cadmus opened the patio door, stepped out onto the wooden deck of
  his cabin, and breathed deeply of the cool, damp early morning air.  The
  surrounding woods were quiet, caught in the transition between night and
  morning.  A thin mist clung to the hillside, muffling the sounds further.
  The sun was not yet up; it was barely first light, and the woods pressed in
  close to the little wooden A-frame like the walls of some dark canyon.  It
  was utterly, wonderfully peaceful.

   It was at times like this that Cadmus' mind looked back to the
  horrors of the previous months...back to the horrors of the X'hirjq
  invasion.  He had been Centurion Baraka Tsunami Cadmus then, of the Doberman
  Empire, and he had been at the Doberman fleet base at San Juan, Puerto Rico,
  when the first waves of the attack hit.  The X'hirjq had correctly
  identified San Juan as the major Atlantic fleet base of the Dingo Guard, and
  they spared no power in their attack.

   The Dingo Guard fought back fiercely, as fiercely as they could.
  But as skilled as they were, as tenacious as the soldiers, sailors, and
  airmen of the Doberman Empire proved themselves to be, they were not a match
  for the superior technology and utter ferocity of the X'hirjq.  Doberman
  Fleet Base San Juan had been all but leveled, and casualties had been
  extreme.  Cadmus, the commander there, had been one of the casualties.  He
  had not been struck down at the controls of his beloved F-22 Lightning II,
  as he had always envisioned.  Instead, he was heading for the airfield when
  a plasma burst dropped half a building on top of him.  It wasn't a heroic
  way to nearly die.  Cadmus was out of action without firing a single shot at
  the alien invaders.  He had to be evacuated out with the few other
  survivors, and spent the remainder of the X'hirjq action in hospital, in
  Norfolk.

   Almost three months' stay in hospital and physical therapy had
  healed his body, but not his spirit.  He was tortured by the scenes of
  horror he'd witnessed, of the deaths of so many of the men he commanded.
  They died bravely, but they died almost in vain, unable to protect the
  eastern home of the Doberman Fleet.  And worst of all, Cadmus had not been
  able to help them fight for their home.  While his pilots were swatted from
  the sky, he lay pinned under a girder.  It was a failure he had never known
  fighting for the Cause.

   Samhain had tried to convince him to stay; the DE was desperately
  short of field-grade officers after the X'hirjq retreated, and every man was
  needed.  But he saw that Cadmus had some things to work out, and reluctantly
  accepted Cadmus' resignations as the commander of both WALRUS and the
  remnants of the Dingo Guard.  To the Empire, Cadmus was on "extended family
  leave".  To Cadmus, the "extended family leave" might well turn out to be
  permanent...he hadn't decided yet.

   "Mmmm...morning.  You're up awfully early."  Cadmus felt a pair
  of hands slip around his waist.  He turned within the embrace to see Laura,
  his girlfriend.  She smiled up at him with sleepy eyes and unkempt hair
  tumbling about her shoulders, clad in her favorite Atlanta Braves
  nightshirt.  He couldn't help but smile back at this lovely creature, the
  woman that was his rock as he tried to put his life back together.  *If only
  she knew the whole story from my Jihad days...no, she wouldn't understand*,
  he thought.

   He bent down and kissed her gently.  "Hey, it's too nice a
  morning to sleep through," he smiled.  "I'm going to go out in the woods for
  a bit."

   She yawned.  "Uuuuuhhhh...OK.  Don't stay long, I'll make some
  coffee and cook some breakfast.  We're going down into Harrisonburg today to
  get some bushes for the side of the cabin, right?"

   He grimaced in mock disgust.  "Yes, dear, we'll go do domestic
  stuff today," he said, the grimace turning into a loving smile.  He kissed
  her again, then left her embrace, put on a pair of ratty sneakers, and
  padded down the steps off the deck.  At the bottom of the deck, he turned,
  waved to her, watched her wave back, and then disappeared into the woods.

   The woods were his favorite place.  They were quiet, peaceful
  save for the sounds of their residents and the barest whisper of noise from
  the highway, half a mile away and out of sight.  Here, he could relax and
  think, try to clear his mind and regain his equilibrium.  He walked by the
  ratty old shed about fifty yards from the house, and, by habit, looked in
  through the filthy window.  He knew nothing inside there would be gone, and
  he couldn't see in anyway, but it was a compulsion that forced him to check
  the building; for inside were his old Jihad uniforms and paraphernalia.
  Laura wouldn't allow any of it in the house, save for his Jihaddium
  officers' longsword, which hung on the wall in their bedroom.

   He hiked fifty yards further into the woods, just out of sight of
  the house, then sat down with his back against a tree and closed his eyes.
  The sounds of the stirring forest washed over him, and the fog covered him
  like a blanket.
 
  Cadmus' eyes snapped open.  It was considerably lighter than it
  had been when he closed his eyes.  *Must've dozed off*, he thought as he
  stretched and awkwardly stood up.  *Damn, a half-hour at least.  Better get
  back for some coffee...I need the caffeine.*

   Before he could take a step, he froze.  A feeling he hadn't felt
  in months washed over him...a feeling of doom, of darkness, of foreboding.
  These hunches were the only sort of psychic activity he ever had...and they
  were never inaccurate.

   Something was WRONG.  He strained his ears, fought to suppress
  the rising emotion within him as he tried to clear his mind.  But all he
  heard was quiet.  Too much quiet.  A single thought broke loose from control
  and rushed to the front of his mind...

   ...*Laura!*

   Abandoning all pretense of control, he started sprinting toward
  the cabin.  It came into view in the dawn light, and he could dimly make out
  Laura walking away from the glass patio door and heading back toward the
  kitchen.  The house drew closer as he ran frantically toward it.

   And then it exploded.

   He saw a flash through the glass door, and then, almost in slow
  motion, he saw the door explode outward.  A few milliseconds later, fire
  roared through the shattering windows.  Then a final, catastrophic explosion
  shattered the walls and roof of the cabin and blew the house apart in a
  fireball.  The blast knocked Cadmus flat on the ground from forty yards away
  and showered him with wood and glass.

   "LAURA!!!", he screamed.  The crackling flames were his only
  answer.

   He felt the presence of someone behind him, and a split-second
  later something purple flashed across his vision and tightened around his
  neck, choking him.  Combat reflexes that he thought he'd forgotten kicked
  back in.  In a flash, he was standing, and a quick throw sent a purple-clad
  figure clutching a makeshift cloth garrotte hurtling to the ground in front
  of him.

   The figure, wearing some sort of sick lavender version of a ninja
  suit, struggled to get to his feet, but Cadmus didn't give him the chance.
  A kick sent the purple ninja flying backward into a tree.  Blinded by rage,
  Cadmus was on top of him in a second, pinning him to the tree, punching and
  kicking until the figure slumped forward and fell, dead, to the ground.

   Cadmus reached down and ripped the mask from the purple ninja's
  face.  It was the bloodied face of a man, but the lips were drawn back in a
  permanent, fixed, mindless smile.  A sponge-minion.

   Cadmus stood, staring down at the lifeless minion below him.
  Then he looked up at the wreckage of his dream, burning brightly before him
  in the misty glow of a Virginia dawn.  And he threw back his head and
  screamed "NOOOOO!!!"  The screams, like those of an enraged, wounded animal,
  continued for some time.

[Two days later, after Laura's funeral.]

   The sky was low and dark, and thunder grumbled in the distance as
  Cadmus poked through the wreckage of the cabin.  He was alone now, utterly
  alone.  Laura's family had shunned him at the funeral, and the local deputy
  sheriff had made it quite plain after the questioning that he was the prime
  suspect in Laura's death; it was too "convenient" that he wasn't in the
  house when it exploded.  In fact, he as good as told Cadmus to expect to be
  arrested sometime in the next day.

   A glint of metal underneath a charred timber caught his eye.  A
  moment's digging revealed the sheath of his Doberman officer's sword, badly
  torn up by the collapse of the house.  Five minutes of hard work later, the
  sword was free from the wreckage.  The sheath was torn up, but as Cadmus
  drew the weapon, he was surprised to see it completely undamaged.

   He stood and held the sword, something he had not done in three
  months.  It felt good in his hand.  It felt right and proper, as if it was
  calling to him...calling him back to duty.

   Duty.  It was a word he hadn't heard in months.  He had thought
  he'd left it behind when he left the Doberman Empire.  But now, it had found
  him.  He would not be able to walk away, would not be able to leave the
  killing and death behind and find peace in the countryside with the woman he
  loved.  The Purple Bastard had forced Cadmus' hand, forced him to come back.

   And that dinosaur would pay.  Dearly.

   Barely an hour later, the unmistakable sound of a big-block
  engine rumbled across the mountainside as a large black vehicle emerged from
  the old shed.  It looked, to the casual observer, like a big black Dodge Ram
  pickup truck with a matching jet-black cap over the truck bed.  But it was
  actually a prototype of what Cadmus called the Jihad Scout Utility Vehicle,
  or JSUV.  He had developed it for WEDJEE as a relatively cheap transport for
  small bands of elite troops, but the X'hirjq landing had interrupted any
  chance it ever had of reaching production.  Still, it was an impressive
  hand-assembled piece of hot-rodding technology.  Powered by a supercharged
  bored-and-stroked V-10, it featured enough go-fast gear to make a Formula 1
  driver do a double-take--active suspension, full-time all-wheel-drive, four-
  wheel steering, run-flat tires, and heavy ballistic protection that would
  stop a 23mm shell.  Inside, the bed area under the cap was easily accessible
  from the front, and featured a fridge with a handy little automatic Jolt
  dispenser (just load in a 12-pack), full satellite communications with
  JihadLink, Global Positioning System, 500-watt ten-speaker stereo with
  subwoofer...the works.

   Inside the cab, Cadmus wiped his sweaty palms on his blue jeans.
  He was nervous about what he had to do next, especially since he was out of
  uniform.  Still, it had to be done.  He keyed the JihadLink transmitter in
  the center console, and punched in a priority code Samhain had given him.

   There was only static on the small video screen in the console
  for several seconds, and then the face of the Fleet Commander of the
  Doberman Empire appeared.  And he didn't look terribly happy at being
  disturbed.

   "Yes?"

   "Uh...Centurion Baraka Tsunami Cadmus, sir."  Despite years of
  Jihad training, Cadmus found himself stammering.  Samhain looked at him with
  that same even, disturbing gaze that was so difficult to read...The Look, so
  many subordinates called it.

   "Yes, I noticed, Centurion."  A pause. "I would assume that you
  didn't call me to stare into a small video screen?  You have some business,
  yes?"

   "Uh...yes, sir.  If it pleases the Commander, I would like to
  return to active duty, in whatever capacity you feel is necessary.  Sir."

   Samhain's expression barely changed; he showed no happiness,
  relief, concern, nothing.  Finally, he broke several seconds of
  uncomfortable silence.  "Dobintel has already informed me of your tragedy,
  Centurion.  My condolences on behalf of the Doberman Empire."

   "Thank you, sir.  So you know why I'm coming back."  *Don't be
  surprised, Cad*, he thought.  *You should've known that Intel was still
  watching you...what, you think they'll just let a Centurion walk off into
  the sunset?*

   "Yes.  How fast can you make it to San Francisco?"

   The query took Cadmus aback a little, especially since he'd never
  *been* to San Francisco, and didn't have a map handy.  "Uh...I don't know,
  sir, about two days straight through, I'd guess."

   Samhain shook his head.  "Not good enough.  Head over to Sugar
  Grove, I'll have an Osprey pick you and your vehicle up.  We need you out
  here ASAP, no other details. Get moving."  The screen went black.

   Cadmus exhaled and sagged back in the seat.  "Well," he said to
  no one in particular.  "Looks like you better get into uniform, Cadmus.
  Company's comin'."

[Two hours later, outside Sugar Grove Naval Observatory, West Virginia.]

   The Doberman Empire V-22 Osprey tilt-rotor clattered in over the
  trees and headed for a large clearing near the massive Sugar Grove radio-
  telescope.  Cadmus stood to one side of it, leaning on the hood of the JSUV.
  He once again wore the dress uniform of a Centurion of the Doberman Empire,
  sword in its battered sheath at his side.  As the V-22 began its final
  descent for landing, Cadmus escaped the swirling cloud of dust, climbed
  inside the JSUV, and fired it up.

   The big Osprey settled to the ground, tail ramp facing the black
  truck.  Once the tilt-rotor was firmly on the ground, the ramp began
  extending.  It had barely touched the ground before the JSUV was wheeling up
  onto it, and into the Osprey's cargo area.

   The ramp closed behind the JSUV and the internal bay lights came
  on.  A Doberman sergeant began chocking the JSUV's wheels in place.  Cadmus
  opened the drivers' window, leaned out, and yelled, "Sergeant!  How long
  until we get to San Francisco?"

   The cargomaster looked up.  "Nine hours straight through, sir,
  we've got all the inflight refueling set up already.  Looks like we'll get
  there about 0200 Pacific time."

   "Good," Cadmus replied.  "Wake me up one hour before we get
  there."  Before the cargomaster could say anything, Cadmus rolled the window
  back up, reclined the driver's seat, and leaned back to get some sleep, as
  the V-22 lurched off the ground and roared off into the gathering night.

Centurion Baraka Tsunami Cadmus, Doberman Empire