“Shut it, Carl. You’re going to let this Americanized outsider tell you what to do? Look how well it turned out for Fernand. The boy wasn’t even twenty, and trusting this soft idiota killed him.” Corbie was staring at the ground now, his sidearm holstered and his hands at his side. “Look, he’s having himself a sook right now.” Pietro spat in disgust before turning back to the Kriegers. “I say we shoot them all, and any others we find…”
“Pietro…” Corbie said, softly.
“They didn’t hesitate to shoot Fernand, and I can swear to you by God they won’t show us any mercy if they get us on our knees…”
“Pietro…” he repeated.
Finally, Pietro whirled around, snarling to face Corbie. “What?”
The punch hit the Italian squarely in the nose, sending the man reeling back into the arms of the Guvnor. A trickle of blood leaked from both nostrils, and Pietro’s eyes immediately began to darken; his nose was probably broken. Wiping some of the blood off with the back of his hand, then seeing it, his eyes went wide. Everyone, especially Pietro, was stunned. The Kriegers didn’t dare move, since Fledermaus was still holding a pistol on them.
“Here’s how it’s going to be, chaps.” Corbie was no longer looking at the ground. Though he was short, he seemed to fill the room right then; his anger was bubbling underneath the surface, and he had to work hard to keep his voice even. “We are not killing any bloody civilians, Thulian, Krieger, or anything in-between. We are going to tie this lot up, lock them in here, and mark the building on the map. We’ll have Vix start extrapolating which other buildings might have non-combatants in them, based on this one. And then we’ll carry on with our mission, taking the fight to the enemy. You know, those blokes out there with the energy cannons that are shooting at our friends right now.”
He raised his hand, leveling a finger at Pietro. “And if anyone tries to hurt someone that doesn’t have a weapon, I’ll shoot the bastard down myself. Is that clear?”
The Guvnor and Fledermaus both nodded. “Ja…team leader.” Corbie saw the barest hint of a smile at the corners of Carl’s mouth.
“You’ve got it, boss.” The Guvnor stood Pietro up, then trained his pistol back on the captive Kriegers. Pietro stood there, hand on his ruined nose, looking at the ground.
“What’s it going to be Pietro? Team player, or are you staying on the bench?”
There was a flash of anger from the Italian, his eyes blazing for a moment…and then, defeated, his shoulders slumped forward and he reluctantly nodded.
“Good. Alright, make sure they’re secured. Then we’re locking this place up tight. I’m calling it in to Vix.”
Corbie turned from the group, and when he was sure they were all occupied with the Kriegers, let out one shuddering long breath. Jesus on a crutch, I never want to have to do something like that again.
“Vic’s already got it, mate. Good job. You missed the excitement outside. Go join Spearhead and secure us a spot for casualties.” That was Sam Colt. Vickie must have been up to her chin in fires.
“Roge-o, Sam. We’ll rally up soon enough. Earth Team out.”
Red Saviour: Ultima Thule
Red Saviour II would be prepared for a fight when she landed at Entry One. She couldn’t sit on the sidelines any longer, relaying commands for her teams and watching as they were put into conflict with the enemy, again and again, while she was safe. Her every instinct had screamed at her that she needed to be there. Once the shield over Ultima Thule was brought down, she had her opening; she had barely finished stating that she was going to join the main assault before she left her command and control desk, sprinting for the door. Art of War, the masterful tactician and strategist that he was, must have seen the move coming somehow; he had already made allowances for her specifically to do what she had done, before she even knew she was going to do it.
Her team was ready and waiting for her; Rusalka, the WWII-era water manipulator, was originally going to lead the team, but immediately deferred to the Commissar. Formed around her were the rest; Upyr with her trusty KS-23 shotgun, her pale face contrasting with the black and red CCCP uniform she wore. Chug stood by Thea’s side, scratching a crude drawing in the dirt with the tip of one of his rocky toes. He was particularly reserved right now. Natalya noted that he was keeping his distance from the last two members of the team, keeping Thea and Rusalka between himself and them.
The last two were Flins and Marowit; they were twins, both psionicists transferred from Russia by Worker’s Champion. Flins was a “lethal” psionicist; the tall, thin man with sharp features hardly ever spoke, but could kill with a thought, shutting down the central nervous system of a person if he concentrated hard enough. Next to him was his sister, Marowit; she seemed to be able to keep her brother, who was somewhat…disturbed…in line. Her metapowers seemed to be similar to her brothers; she was able to influence dreams or nightmares, some such thing. She did the talking for both of them, reading his mind and then relaying his thoughts. Natalya knew that Marowit had previously been KGB, and at some unspecified point had left the organization, returning with her brother in tow shortly after the Invasion. It was heavily implied in rumors that Flins had been used in a covert assassination program during the Cold War and even after, but none of it was substantiated. Natalya didn’t have very many dealings with the pair; they did their duties satisfactorily, were up to date on all of their reports, and otherwise kept to themselves. Understaffed as she was in Atlanta, each warm body she could procure was welcome.
The ride with the mass of other Swifts was spent mostly in silence; occasionally Thea would talk with Chug, calming him; he didn’t like aerial rides very much, preferring to stay on the ground whenever possible. As they neared Ultima Thule, the Commissar could see the thick columns of smoke rising from all areas of the city. There were constant explosions in the sky over the city, as well as on the ground; incoming missiles and artillery, many being intercepted by the defense grid of energy turrets that the Kriegers had set up. Still, some were getting through, smashing the enemy and helping her comrades where they did.
When Natalya’s Swift landed at Entry One, it was amidst chaos. There were hundreds of troops and vehicles moving, unloading equipment, personnel, and more vehicles. Armored Personnel Carriers were being dropped in on specially outfitted Swifts; some were mounted with mobile ECHO broadcast units, while others ferried men to the front lines of the fighting. There were also the wounded; so many dozens of them, being loaded up into the Swifts just as soon as there was room for them. Natalya spotted the ECHO healer Einhorn running in the direction of the wounded soldiers after she had dismounted one of the other Swifts.
“Davay, davay! There are fascistas spilling our comrades’ blood!” She was the first one off of the Swift, leading the way. Her personal HUD already had the location of Spearhead Group and Red Team pulled up, with a route that would get her team there the fastest. She calculated the distance in her head. Still not fast enough. She scanned the forward staging area, then settled quickly on an alternative. “Follow me.” Running, she lead her team to a group of VDV—elite Russian airborne troopers—who were assembling around a pair of APCs.
“I am Commissar Natalya Shostakovaya, callsign Red Saviour II, leader of the CCCP. I will be commandeering this vehicle and all of you men,” she said forcefully in rapid-fire Russian. The non-commissioned officer that was in charge of the squad conferred with his men, then nodded. With some shouting and jostling, the airborne troopers and Natalya’s team piled into a BMP-3; a sturdy Russian armored personnel carrier. Everyone that couldn’t fit into that one was put into a BMD-2, a specialized version that the VDV often used. Once the hatches were secure, the heavy diesel engines roared to life, and both vehicles cruised out of the ready area and towards the fighting, the BMD in the lead.
The interiors were cramped, with very little room for anyone to so much as scratch themselves. Chug was very nervous at this point, rocking back and forth gently. Thea was still trying to keep him calm, tel
ling him that soon they would be outside and that he could protect his friends from the “bad mans,” but this did little to ease him. He seemed to be very shy, not looking at any of the airborne soldiers.
“Chug,” Thea said. “These are being sturdy Russians, just like you. They will protect you, and you will protect them. Da?”
Chug, still looking bashful, managed a craggy smile. “Okay. Chug can do that.”
“Overwatch Vix to Red Saviour.”
“Da, Red Saviour here, over.”
“I just juggled things so you get Gamayun all to yourself. If you need me, shout.”
“Horosho. We will need her.” She paused for a moment, then said more quietly. “Thank you. Red Saviour, over and out.”
“Gamayun here, Commissar. I am following you on the map.” Unlike Victrix, who was still back in Atlanta, Gamayun was physically on the ground here in the Himalayas—with the Command and Control Unit, in fact, the nearest area they thought was safe. Her talent was a limited-area Remote Viewing; holding an inverted shot glass over a map, she had an almost prescient-view of what was going on there. The range of her ability was only about ten miles; while she had been first tagged for use in espionage, the limits of her powers and the utility of spy satellites kept her shelved…until the CCCP found her to be the perfect coordinator for patrols. Now she would apply her skills here, in full combat, utilizing the lessons she had learned sitting in the CIC of the CCCP in Atlanta. So she would be a second set of “eyes” on their path, watching for ambush, besides Vickie’s flying cameras. Natalya was more than grateful to Victrix for this; there were only so many of those cameras, and they could not be everywhere. To have arranged for Gamayun to be assigned only to her group—Boryets may well be spluttering into his helmet right now. Surely it took magic to accomplish this. Perhaps she gave him a camera of his own. He always did trust technology over people.
It didn’t take long before the two APCs came into contact. The explosions were constant outside of the metal skin of the vehicles, and were growing closer the further into the city they went. Several times the vehicles would be rocked on their tracks. The Russians within remained stoic, or did their best to appear that way.
“Gamayun to Red Team 2! Commissar, ambush—!” The woman was unable to get any other words through before explosions—this time right next to the vehicles—rocked the earth.
“B`lyad’!” The driver of the lead BMD was shouting over the comms; immediately, both vehicles began firing their main guns and the coaxial machine guns in long, ragged bursts. Both vehicles continued to speed forward, trying to clear the kill zone of the ambush. Some of the soldiers around Natalya began praying, others clutching their AK-74s in death grips. Damnit! This route was supposed to be cleared. There was a tremendous explosion, and the BMP that they were riding in skidded to a halt, causing everyone to slide into each other. The crew was shouting for everyone to dismount; they were still firing the chaingun and the main cannon as quickly as they could, the gunner frantically turning the coaxial weapons as the turret ponderously rotated between each shot.
The VDV troops were the first out, followed by Natalya and her team. She charged her fists, ready to fight. She was almost staggered by what she saw as she rounded the side of the BMP. The BMD that had been in the lead was a smoking ruin, its cannon canted wildly into the air. Three VDV troopers ran to the hatch at the back, prying it open to try to get any survivors out; the only thing that came out was a wash of flame and black smoke. Their commander shouted for them to clear away from it before the munitions cooked off. Natalya could barely hear anything over the sound of the remaining APC’s weapons. The VDV soon added their own weapons fire to the cacophony.
“Commissar, you have ambushers on both sides; rooftops and streets. Mostly unarmored, with four troopers that I can see. The street is blocked by the downed BMD; you will have to proceed on foot. Calling in close air support, but they are up to their ears in it already.”
Natalya glanced at the map overview of her area; she saw the positions that the enemy had chose. It was a good ambush spot, with plenty of shooting positions and not much cover for her people. She decided to act immediately, before they could become bogged down.
“Chug! Get the tin soldier-men! Upyr, Rusalka, the left flank! Flins, Marowit, with me on the right! Support the VDV!” She didn’t have to wait to see what her people would do; she knew that they were already starting to carry out her orders. Thea’s shotgun immediately began to bark a response, and Chug let out a gravely roar as he charged forward. Natalya searched for her own targets. There! A group of four Kriegers were on a rooftop, shooting down with energy weapons and throwing grenades at the VDV. Kicking off the ground on a plume of her metahuman energy, she flew to the side of the building, staying close to it so that she wouldn’t be a target for them. Once she was past the edge of the rooftop, she spun around, then killed her flight. She had timed it right at the apex of her momentum, and came down on the roof as if she had simply stepped down a foot. As soon as her feet touched down, she went into a forward roll; her position was right behind the Kriegers, and none of them had seen her. Coming up in a crouch, she added extra power to her charged fists; her first punch broke the back of one of the Kriegers, almost folding him in half before he was catapulted forward over the ledge of the building. Belatedly, the others turned to face her, but she was already among them. She kicked the energy pistol of the nearest Krieger, causing it to discharge into the rooftop before it could be brought to bear on her. She spun around, snapping her head with the movement so that she could keep eyes on her target. An energy charged backhand decimated the Krieger’s face, leaving it in smoking ruins and breaking the creature’s neck. The second to last Krieger screamed, pulling out a knife and lunging for her; she juked to the left, then the right, pushing him in the back and causing him to go flying past her in a dive, landing face-first on the roof. The other Krieger was fumbling with one of his grenades; Natalya dissipated the energy in her right hand, unholstered her Makarov, and shot the Thulian three times in the face before holstering her pistol again. He fell to the roof, the unarmed grenade still in hand.
The Krieger with the knife had recovered, spitting blood. He ran at her again, all reckless abandon. Natalya smiled wolfishly, waiting for him. When he was near enough, she charged her fists, then dashed forward to meet the Krieger. He was caught off-guard, and faltered at the last second. A flurry of energy-charged punches pummeled his body, pulping bone and organs. Finally, she grabbed the barely-living Thulian by the throat, and delivered a final uppercut blow, sending him through the air.
She glanced around herself, looking for more targets, momentarily forgetting that she could find them in her HUD. And a burst of fire in the distance caught her attention.
She did a double-take as she focused on it, her jaw dropping open a little. “Borzhe moi…” Surely that was not a—dragon? A dragon the size of—what? A soccer field? Easily!
And what was that, flying about it, harassing it like a pair of overly-ambitious fireflies?
Fireflies? Fire?
“Gamayun!” she barked, but got no response. Cursing silently, she tried another. “Overwatch! Victrix!”
“Busy with dragon, JM and Sera!” the little mage rasped back. Well, that was what she wanted to know, wasn’t it? “Nechevo, spasibo,” she replied. “Overwatch, Gamay—” But she didn’t get a chance to finish the word, as the sizzle of an energy-weapon bolt passed within a foot of her head. Now cursing not at all silently, she dove for cover. She inched towards the edge of the roof, then, turning her head sideways to present as small of a target as possible, and peeked over it. She saw where the energy blasts were coming from; another group of Kriegers on a rooftop across the street. She cursed…and then her hand bumped into something small and cylindrical; the Thulian grenade. Natalya studied the device for a moment; it was exceedingly simple, evidently modeled on the old Nazi “potato masher” grenades, but with a different arming mechanism. Instead of untwist
ing a cap on the bottom and yanking on a pull cord, it came with a safety cap and an activation stud. She ripped the safety cap off—the part the dead Thulian had been having trouble with—and mashed down on the stud before throwing it across the street. It landed among the Kriegers firing at her, and went off a split-second later; the sphere of energy engulfed all four of them, as well as part of the building they were stationed on; everything the sphere touched disintegrated. Fitting, using the scum’s own foul weapons against it.
She leaned over the edge, still careful not to expose herself as she surveyed the street below. The rest of the Krieger ambush was folding. Upyr and Rusalka had been able to put down a squad of unarmored Kriegers with the assistance of the VDV; Natalya watched as Rusalka ordered all of the airborne troopers to empty their canteens, then used her meta ability to weaponize the spilled water. It flew through the air, controlled by Rusalka, to blind and smother the Kriegers as she concentrated it on their faces. It was quick work for Thea to rush in with her shotgun and put each of the Thulians down judiciously. The VDV had taken some more injuries while assaulting the other positions, but thankfully no one else looked critical.
None of the VDV had assisted Flins and Marowit; from the way the normally unflappable troopers were moving and talking with each other, Natalya got the impression that none of them wanted to go near the two metas. Both of them had stayed behind cover, eyes closed for concentration. Within moments, the screams started. One Thulian was clutching his head as blood streamed from his eyes, ears, and nose before he fell to the ground, dead. Another began shouting, unholstered his pistol, and started shooting several of his compatriots before he was put down by them. The survivors all then began to claw at their own flesh; some were crying, others were screaming, and most disturbing of all…some were laughing hysterically. The horrific chaos lasted only a few moments before all of them had found appropriately large veins, tore them open with their own hands, and collapsed, bleeding out, onto the pavement.
Collision: Book Four in the Secret World Chronicle - eARC Page 57