Operation Pacifica: George of the Jungle?
by Trooper Charcharadon (highland@iastate.edu)

        [settheme = "George of the Jungle" from cartoon of same
  name]

        The steady sound of slashing machetes filled the verdant
  jungle.  A mixed force of three dozen Jihaddi were forcing their way slowly
  through the rain forest surrounding the sponge city.  In the day or so since
  KBRN had gone off the air, the Jihaddi expeditionary force had consolidated
  control of the sponge city and nearby jungle areas.  Advanced units had even
  pushed into the wastelands and deserts separating the city from the Lyran
  Fortress.  It had become obvious who was in charge of the defense of
  Pacifica, and nobody liked it.

        The thirty-six members of the FCC (as some wag had dubbed
  them after the destruction of KBRN) had been sent to sweep the flanks of the
  Jihaddi force and hold off any forces which might still be lurking in the
  jungles beyond the expeditionary force's control.  Though resupplied and
  rested, they were making little headway through the dense foliage.

        "I don't see what all of you are griping about.  I'm not
  having that much trouble," quipped the TRES marine in the Nemesis
  BattleArmor with a grin.  The remainder of those within earshot all stopped
  and glared at her.

        "Hey, hey, they said that there might be more Wyrm-Bots in
  this area, and I was the most qualified operator.  I feel your pain,
  really."

        "Said the woman with air conditioning," finished a Doberman
  Empire soldier busy wiping sweat out of her eyes with a shirt sleeve.
  General chuckling followed.

        Charcharadon leaned against the bole of a tree for a moment
  as a second TRES member approached him.  "Sir, our scouts report some sort
  of movement on our flank.  Quite probably hostile."

        "Thanks, Perkins, we'll just have to organize a welcoming
  committee."

        "I'm Parker, sir, Perkins is the one with climate control,"
  she gestured towards the hulking battlearmor.

        Charcharadon paused.  "Yeah, right, that's what I meant.
  Get moving."

        The sponges were marching merrily along, humming songs to
  reflect their high morale.  This humming was completely drowned out by the
  recorded music blasting from the enormous Nagenta war machine accompanying
  them.  It crunched its way through the forest and they followed in its path.
  The Jihaddi forces had advanced rapidly and their flank was supposed to be
  exposed, so they were going to go spread a little luv in the rear areas.
  Blissfully unaware, they wandered right into the trap.

       "OK, Perkins, just a little longer..." whispered Charcharadon
  into his tactical radio.  He and his troops were taking cover in some
  depressions that were conveniently placed on either side of the spongies
  path of travel.  As the enemy force drew even with their position,
  Charcharadon gave the order to go.

        [settheme = "Sapphire Bullets of Pure Love" TMBG, Flood]

        The sponge force came to a sudden halt as the single Nemesis
  battlearmor stepped out to block their path.  "Excuse me," Perkins' voice
  attempted to compete with the Dark Hymn, "but would you mind turning that
  down?   I really, *FOOM* really, *FOOM* really *FOOM* am tired of hearing
  that same *FOOM* stinking *FOOM* song all the time. *FOOM*"

        Six bolts of blazing destruction impaled the head and crew
  areas of the HellWyrm Bot.  Damaged support members screamed their metallic
  death cries as the head assembly collapsed down into the torso and the
  stricken machine dropped to the ground at her feet.  Struck momentarily dumb
  by the sudden loss of their rallying symbol, the sponges hesitated before
  returning fire.  In that instant the dozen Jihaddi concealed on either side
  of the path opened fire.  Distracted and disoriented, the spongies began
  firing in all directions as battle commenced once again.

        It had not lasted a minute before cries of alarm came from
  the Jihaddi.  The ambushers had been ambushed; a force of smudges and
  saethrians erupted from the ground in a ring around them.  Sandwiched
  between sponges on one side and creatures not native to this plane on
  another, the dozen Jihaddi dug in and prepared to hold tight.

        "Phase two, now!" yelled Charcharadon as he bisected a
  saethrian with a burst from his x-rifle.  Seconds later there was a large
  explosion from within the sponge forces.  A large amount of carefully
  concealed explosives detonated, completely obliterating the sponge minions,
  who had all clumped together for safety.  With one front cleared, the
  embattled Jihaddi turned their full attention to the force of saethrians and
  smudges.  At the same time, the remaining two dozen who had hidden up in the
  trees dropped down behind the enemy and opened fire as well.  The
  saethrians, being of little intelligence, were slow to react to this sudden
  reversal of situations.  They were quickly eliminated before they could
  adjust.  The smudges, much quicker on the uptake, fought on with great
  tenacity, and almost succeeded in breaking through the encircling ring of
  fire and escaping.  Unfortunately for them, Perkins returned in her Nemesis
  to plug the hole.

        Within six minutes, the whole firefight was over.  The
  primeval jungle had taken on the aspect of a smoldering, blasted wasteland,
  but there wasn't much left of the enemy.  Charcharadon sent out a couple
  scouting parties to check the area and ensure that nothing had gotten away.
  The rest tended to the wounded and fallen.  Six of their number were sent
  back, four in zippered plastic bags.  When the scouts returned, they
  reported no enemy activity in the area.

        The slightly weakened FCC proceeded on their way towards the
  desert.

[to be continued in Operation Pacifica: Mirage]