by Andrew Iddon
Greg swallowed his spit as he saw the ships, just coming out of the darkness more and more. As the first ships got much bigger, and more distinguished, a hundred more black dots came in from behind them.
The Nazi ships stopped; suddenly, they began to swoop side to side, getting into a formation. The ships formed a wedge, like an arrow ready to pierce the platform like a wild buffalo. At this time, the Imperium ships emerged from the platform, taking a similar position across from the Nazis. There were many more Nazi ships than there were Imperial, and the Nazi ships were much vaster in size and weaponry. In order to defeat this fleet, the Imperium needed to rely on the platform’s anti air cannons. The Imperium fleet had to hold the Nazi ships at bay, while their AA cannons destroyed them from the ground. The infantry would hold off the German drop pods.
Everything was silent. Only the engine humming of the seemingly endless supply of ships continued to buzz through the air; both forces were awaiting each other to make the first move.
Darius stood there gasping over the now, very full hologram board, the red figurines indicating the Germans, and the blue ones indicating his Imperium garrison. He had to make the first move, and soon, to get the surprise advantage. He licked his lips, and put his mouth towards the communications microphone to give the order, “All AA defence cannons open fire!”
All in one instant the entire platform shook subtly, as every AA laser defence cannon rang out, and hurled their destructive projectiles into the air. The Imperium fleet then responded by opening fire upon the Nazi wedge. The smaller Imperium fighters spit out of their hulls and whizzed towards the enemy. The Nazis then responded by returning fire, and deploying their own fighters to combat the Imperium’s.
The projectiles from the platform’s cannons struck the Nazi’s battleships, consuming them in fire, and exploding energy, although leaving them fairly unscathed. The German ships were heavily armored, and had force fields protecting the hulls, but the fighters that flew through the blaze were eradicated.
The Imperium cruisers continued their barrage, remaining in their positions to share the energy fields of their ally’s ships, trying to keep the Nazi ships suppressed. They had to keep the Nazi ships in position, to allow the AA cannons to break through their shields, and take them down.
The sky began to light up with fire and colour as the fleets fired lasers, missiles, and gravity adapted bullets at each other. Greg covered his eyes on occasion, when either an Imperium cruiser or Nazi battleship erupted into a mini supernova, causing a momentary blinding flash.
The fleets began to break formation; they started to soar between each other, trying to get their broadside guns in action. The soldiers on the ground continued to stare at the now completely chaotic air battle that was happening above, as hundreds and hundreds of black Nazi ships, and green Imperium ships consumed each other in fire and destruction.
As the fleets continued to destroy each other up above, Greg and his men began to turn their eyes to the next threat. Below the engaged fleets, moved another swarm of Nazi ships, but these weren’t battleships; they were troop carriers.
This was it, the moment that Greg was waiting for; the moment where he and his men would shine; the moment the Nazis sent their men to the ground. The troops manning the defensive turrets and smaller AA guns began to open fire at the German troop carriers, trying to destroy them, before they landed on the ground. The battle could be seen miles upon miles away, from the far reaches of that sector of space, flashing and beaming with activity.
Greg ran from position to position, trying to maintain his troops, making sure they did their jobs without faltering. The moment those Nazis came out of their pods, he wanted to be ready, ready for the onslaught; he knew neither side would be without massive casualties.
The pods plummeted towards the surface, piercing through the artificial air bubble constructed by the Imperium terraforming generator. Many exploded gloriously, causing others to fall off course, creating massive chain reactions of carnage, but it still wasn’t enough. There were too many pods to contend with.
The first wave of pods crashed into the ground shaking the platform, knocking nearby troopers off their feet. The pods remained motionless. Several squads of Imperium soldiers lined up, with their semi automatic battle rifles, their retractable bayonets glistening from the starlight. This part of the battlefield seemed strangely quiet, even with all the destruction of the fleets and defences as they clashed all around.
The soldiers were getting anxious. Some were beginning to falter, and backed up, but Greg stood firm, and waved all those wanting to quit back into the fight.
The pods, all of a sudden, hissed; smoke began to spew from the exhaust chambers, and a vapour came from the cracks of the doors, as it balanced the pressure from inside the pod and the space platform. The doors then whipped open, and crashed into the ground, like a drawbridge, on all four sides of the pods.
From inside the pod the sound of a hoarse German voice echoed out, as the command to attack was given. After the voice stopped, the Nazi infantry bolted out from inside, roaring, and screaming battle cries, as they flooded the area.
The Imperium infantry immediately opened fire, spraying the area with volleys of simultaneous organized rifle fire. The Nazi advance began to slow, as waves of dozens of soldiers were shot, and killed, with each volley of the Imperium rifles.
Their assault looked like black water from a bird’s eye view, as the horde of Nazi soldiers moved, and dropped like the ripples of water.
The Imperium soldiers became excited. If they kept this up they could hold the Nazi advance right here. But nothing is as it seems.
As more and more waves of pods came down, more and more enemy infantry began to swarm the Imperium position. Greg knew something was wrong. The battle was going too well; the Nazis were not shooting back. Greg ran back towards the second line of defences; it was a tall wall, with several mounted machine gun and mortar positions, that spread from one side of the artificial field to the other. He went through the gate, and told his men there to make ready. The Nazis had to have some sort of trick up their sleeves.
Greg climbed to the top of the wall, and stared across the battlefield, rather pleased with how things were going. The Imperium line didn’t falter; it continued mowing down wave after wave of German infantry, with minimal losses. Greg was rather shocked at the enemy tactics.
He continued to observe, occasionally glancing at the sky, to see if anything new was progressing, when something caught his attention. A strange flashing was emanating from behind the German lines. It was almost like it was fire, setting things ablaze from far away.
Amidst the chaos, emerged a single being, tall and heavily armored, bearing a red painted swastika emblem on his chest. He stood in front of the Imperium line, as they merely gazed back, flabbergasted at this new enemy. His armor wasn’t like anything they had seen before, and, as they shot at him, their bullets bounced off like a BB gun’s pellets.
Before Greg could react, the Nazi raised his weapon to his hip. It was a large tube-like gun, and he had a large armored backpack on, so Greg could only assume the worst. The fire he had seen before was coming from this gun; the Nazi opened his visor, and bellowed confidently, “Schmelzen Sie Arschloche.”
Before Greg could respond, the Nazi opened the muzzle of his gun, and began spewing an extremely focussed beam of flame upon the Imperium infantry. Almost instantly, the entire line was decimated, their flesh melting from their bones, leaving nothing but a pile of ashes and fleshy goo where they stood.
Greg stood, horrified, as his eyes flashed with the light from the fire, and as tears began rolling down his cheek. He just stood there, watching his brave men melt before his eyes, like wax figurines left out in the sun. That is no way for a soldier to die.
The Nazi stopped to let his flamer cool, and he turned towards Greg, and said, “Fleische
r is coming for you, meat!”
Greg was not one to fall to intimidation, but, what he just witnessed at the hands of this German brute made his skin crawl. He regained his posture, and ordered the rest of his men to open fire, unleashing the mortars and turret emplacements.
As the explosions began to light up the field, Fleischer fled back behind his lines, and in his place, massed hundreds of Nazi soldiers. Without the front line of Imperium infantry, the Nazis threw all they had at the wall, hundreds turned to thousands as the black armored spawns of Hell itself began overwhelming the Imperium position.
They began climbing the walls, using their fallen comrade’s corpses as stairs. They then proceeded to use proper tactics of taking cover, and popping off shots at the Imperium troops on and behind the wall.
Greg lifted his rifle, and began picking off any enemies close by, dropping them as fast as he could pull the trigger. Accuracy was no factor here. There were so many targets that you could shoot blind in all directions, and rack up a kill streak.
Greg took his time, aiming for the heads of the higher ranked soldiers, and using his bayonet to pierce the chests of close quarter’s enemies. He began to pant; he could feel sweat beading off his head, and down the neck of his chest plate.
He stopped to catch his breath, when he felt a shocking blunt force hit him in the head. He fell off the wall, and crashed into the hard metal ground below. He held his chin in extreme pain, as he contemplated how serious the injury was. He tried to call for help, but found his face numb. He had dislocated his jaw on the fall, and all he could do was try and stand up, before feeling something grab the back of his armor. Then he found himself flying through the air, back towards the wall.
As he smacked into the wall, a loud thump sent pains and shockwaves through Greg’s body, as he struggled with all his might to continue standing. He couldn’t find enough time to regain his composure, before being hit again and again. Finally, before he could stand up again, he reached for a rifle close by, ejected the bayonet, and raised it in front of his chest. He felt something heavy push against the gun, pressing the butt into his chest.
Dizziness and shock finally left him, as he could now see who he was fighting. Staring back at him was the red domed helmet of a Nazi SS Clone. Without flinching, the clone grabbed the butt of the rifle, and pulled it towards himself, driving the bayonet farther into his own chest. Greg cringed, and pushed on his end as well. The clone wanted to get closer to his prey, and so pulled the gun so deep, he could reach out and grab Greg.
Greg began to worry, and let go of the gun, trying to escape. The large hand of the clone grabbed his head, turned him around, and brought his face to the clones elbow, crushing his face with pressure. The blow sent so much pain through Greg’s face, but it must have pushed his jaw back into position, for he could now scream, and express how much agony he was really in. The clone laughed to himself, he stood up to pull the rifle out of his chest.
As he tossed the gun aside, there was a loud holler behind him, as a single gunshot was heard. The clone’s dome helmet ruptured with shattered glass and blood as a bullet whizzed through his face, and dug into the wall behind Greg. The clone crumbled like a ragdoll to the ground, leaving a pool of blood underneath his head.
Greg, more than relieved, stood up to see his saviour. Standing there was Darius. Greg sighed with relief, and began fiddling with his chin, making sure it was still in place.
“We have to pull back, Lieutenant. The Krauts have completely overrun the outer defences, and the fleet is falling apart. We have to get to the command centre; star ports Utah and Virginia are complete messes, and we still have more than half the German force to contend with.
Just then another mass explosion shook the ground, as an Imperium fighter collided with one of the communications towers, setting half of the base in that section ablaze.
Greg and Darius began to make their way back towards the main gate into the hallways, gradually picking up any straggling Imperium soldiers along the way. The men were about to enter the gate, when Greg turned around to survey the battlefield he was leaving behind. He saw dozens of Imperium soldiers getting shot and impaled, run over, and destroyed by explosions, adding to the hundreds upon hundreds of corpses on the field. Fire consumed most of the ground, roasting the bodies, leaving a horrid stink in the air.
In the midst of the fight, he saw an Imperium engineer trying to disable a cross-sector teleporter, which would stop the Nazis from using it to get quickly to other Imperium bases. Before the engineer could finish, a strange gunshot sounded, and the engineer collapsed. Greg recognized that gunshot. He heard the same gunshot back on Nassau; it was Richthofen’s Luger pistol.
Sure enough, Greg saw him, the Chancellor, the enemy of the entire galaxy, the lord of the Nazi regime. Greg stood his ground; Darius tried to pull him back but he shrugged Darius off. This was it; Greg would finish this war. This man’s arrogance and search for glory led him to the front lines, where he would be defeated.
Greg dropped his weapons, threw off his helmet, and began to run towards his target, pumping his legs as fast as they could carry him. He ran through the shrapnel, and smoke of explosions. He ran through the various duels going on around him; he ran so fast and hard he couldn’t even feel his body anymore. He was so determined, so ready to do his duty, to become the ultimate hero, that he began to scream like a triumphant lion about to pounce on his prey.
Friedrich turned rashly, as he saw this ridiculous man barrelling towards him at incredible speed. He began to run in the opposite direction. His men were too preoccupied to help, and he was too vulnerable to be killed this early. He ran towards the wall, before noticing the teleporter. He chuckled to himself, and then ran towards it. He pulled out his gun, and fired at the destination coordinates, sheathing his weapon right afterwards.
As Greg was nearly upon him, he punched the activation button, and stood his ground. The teleporter flashed, as a huge blue beam discharged from the base pad. The destination pad sparked, and sizzled, as the beam began to take an odd shape, and changed colour rapidly. Greg saw this, but could not stop his momentum. Before he could stop, a bullet from a Nazi sniper clipped his shoulder, sending him off balance. He soared through the air, and tackled Friedrich straight in the stomach, sending them both backwards into the beam of energy.
Greg found himself spinning, screaming with pain; it felt as though his body was being torn apart, only to be reattached. He couldn’t see anything but pure energy. Flashes of different environments blinked in and out of his periphery, he realized the teleporter was struggling to find a place to finish transporting them.
He could see Richthofen. He was still so full of anger and hatred, he tried with all his might to reach out, and attack him. Amidst the spinning and pain, Richthofen turned, and began to throw what limbs he could at Greg’s direction, occasionally striking him, whilst spinning uncontrollably. Finally, before each of them could pass out from the trip through the void, the spinning stopped, and the flashing environments stopped. Both of them fell towards the ground, landing with a thud.
CHAPTER 23
As the battle for Omaha soured, things weren’t looking any better on the rest of the platform. Karaliskos found himself among a new group of strangers battling with the infamous enemies that Greg and the Imperials had talked about for so long. He swung his blade around slicing and dicing everyone that challenged him. Carlin observed him from afar and was in awe at the grace and beauty of his skill in killing. It was almost a dance more than a martial skill as Karaliskos spun and dove, parried, and gutted. Nazi after Nazi ran up only to be slashed to ribbons as Karaliskos continued his streak.
Carlin stayed with a group of artillery in the back coordinating their attacks on the landing craft and drop pods. He occasionally pulled his side arm and popped off a shot here and there trying to lighten the load of his allies.
Karalisk
os was enjoying himself thoroughly he smiled as he slew until something caught his attention. Out of the darkness of the Nazi horde approached a different enemy. He was taller and more brutish. He had a flamethrower in one hand and a massive Virosteel cleaver in his other. Karaliskos prepared for the oncoming duel as he lowered his stance with his blade ready. The hulking brute then called out, “Come at me dog! Be the first alien of the day to be minced by Fleischer’s cleaver!”
Karaliskos didn’t enjoy being called a dog by a human, his eyes turned red before he bounded forward like a hare and swung his blade with all his might. As his blade neared its target Fleischer dropped his flamethrower and raised his now empty hand. He caught Karaliskos’ blade with his hand stopping Karaliskos in an instant shaking his insides like a freight train screeching on the brakes. Karaliskos tried to pull back but Fleischer man handled his blade like a toy, leading him around like a dance partner. Fleischer then pull his arm towards him, Karaliskos was now staring his enemy in the face. Fleischer smiled, and then his pupils glowed yellow before his veins began to bulge. “See I am not the only one who can play tricks with his eyes,” said Fleischer.
His eyes returned to normal before he threw Karaliskos off of him holding up his cleaver ready to fight.
“I believe in good sportsmanship, I will give you a fighting chance monster,” cried Fleischer confidently and then threw Karaliskos blade next to him.
Karaliskos stood up instantly and then attacked again swinging his blade and his body like a cyclone. Fleischer dodged side to side and back and forth with devilish speeds laughing as he did it. He then took a swing himself trying to slash Karaliskos across the chest but he didn’t anticipate Karaliskos’ racial benefits. Karaliskos bent backwards touching the back of his head to the back of his ankles and Fleischer’s blade cut through the air leaving him open for a counter. Karaliskos still bent backwards swung his feet out with his hands on the ground as support kicking Fleischer in the face. With his legs still in motion from the kick he landed them behind his head which was still ground level before finally lifting his torso back up completing a perfectly executed flip kick but with an Amarosian twist. He and Fleischer then swung their blades at each other with a fury. They slashed stabbed and parried each other perfectly as their duel became a dancing plethora of sparks and movement.