Operation Pacifica: On the road again! (part 1)
by Trooper Charcharadon, Doberman Empire

        [settheme = Jesus Jones "Starting from Scratch" Scratched]

        Trooper Charcharadon was glad to finally be out of the
  hospital.  Too much inactivity had started to chafe, and he really really
  REALLY wanted to get out and do something.  Anything.

        Being confined to a bed and monitored constantly by
  physicians also hampered his ability to avoid the paperwork involved with
  his job, and following Operation Phoenix there was a lot of rather
  distasteful paperwork.  Refilling units which had suffered better than 50%
  casualties did not help to improve his disposition, and writing all those
  letters to parents and next of kin of all the people who hadn't made it
  through the fight was even worse.

        So when the doctors had finally cleared him to return to
  full active status, he was out of there like a shot.  A little time to
  figure things out, that's what he needed.

        The X'hirjq invasion had left its mark on the Jihad, and the
  troops that had served under Charcharadon were no exception.  The Technical
  Brigade had been severely hit, loosing both personnel and machinery.
  Replacing the test pilots and their mecha would be difficult.  The ground
  troops that had accompanied them had fared even worse.  It would be quite a
  while before they were up to full strength, but the survivors were the best
  of the best.  Or at least they would be as soon as they had coped with the
  devastating losses they had taken.  Everyone had lost friends.

        Not even Charcharadon had escaped unscathed.  He had broken
  an arm ejecting from his crippled mecha, and nearly been killed by a group
  of X'hirjq troops.  Although his recollection of events wasn't too clear
  about the end of the battle, he had managed to either fight off or kill them
  (he was, after all, still alive) but the injuries he had sustained had kept
  him down ever since. (author's note: This happened in the installments of
  OpPhoenix that I never got around to writing...)

        "Sometimes I almost wish I were part alien or a minor deity,
  or something else out of the ordinary.  At least _they_ recover faster..."
  he grumbled as he stalked down corridors to his office.  Finally, thanks to
  his natural constitution and the skill of the Doberman Empire's medical
  facilities, he was fit again.  "Better clear a few more things away and then
  maybe I can catch some vacation."

        [settheme = Pogues "Smell of Petroleum" Waiting for Herb]

        The message was buried under a huge pile of backlog,
  summoning him (and a few other Dobermensch) to a meeting at TRES
  Headquarters.  As usual, he was late.  Too late in fact to actually
  participate in it, but not too late for him to join up with them in San
  Francisco.

        "Great.  Just what I need. `Once more unto the breach'," he
  groused.  And yet after thinking about it for a minute, it didn't seem like
  such a bad idea.  The briefing information forwarded to him indicated it
  would be a rather light campaign.  Just the sort of thing to get back into
  the swing of things, polish off those skills which had been sitting in a
  hospital bed with him for the past three months, and best of all let him
  work out some of the demons from Operation Phoenix.

        Charcharadon packed quickly, and headed for the motorpool.

        "Hey, Borja, what have you got that's really fast?"

        "Depends.  How fast do you need?"

        "I need to get to San Francisco in a few hours.  Possibly
  through resistance."

        A thoughtful pause.

        "Well, that definitely narrows things down a bit.  Late
  again, sir?"

        "Shut up."

        "Yes sir."

        It turned out that the only thing available that could do
  the job was an old viper Mark 2 light mecha test frame (with long range
  boosters) which the Technical Brigade had mothballed a couple years back.
  Everything else was destroyed or in the process of being repaired, and
  ground transportation would be too slow.  Charcharadon and Borja scrounged a
  few weapons up and fixed them to the frame.

        "Thanks for the help.  See you in a few!"

        "Right sir," Borja saluted sharply.  "Check six."

        The mecha bearing Charcharadon rocketed off into the sky,
  heading west at maximum speed.

[to be continued in Operation Pacifica: On the road again! (part 2)]