Time War: Invasion

by Nick S. Thomas

  "No, it might just work yet."

  "Think we should choose a slightly less ambitious target?"

  "No, Nylund, time isn't on our side, and this will do us just fine."

  Corwin looked carefully at the whole building and everything around it. A two-metre high iron fence ran for several hundred metres in either direction until it met a small wood on either side. There was little cover, but it was so dark the flat ground leading up to the structure was almost completely obscured.

  "Here's the deal. Rane, Nylund, you're taking the two on the gate. Lecia, find some high ground where you can cover the frontage of the building, and you fire the moment those two make their move. Beyett, you stick with Lecia. We cannot afford you risking your life. We need you more than ever. Hunter, Chas, and Vi, you're with me taking the left hand side. Tano, Frasi, Harland, take the left flank."

  He stopped and looked at Porter, and just knew he could be a spanner in the works.

  "What?" Porter asked, smiling.

  "Don't fuck this up for us," said Corwin.

  Porter shrugged while he still smiled.

  "All right, you're with me, too," he said, knowing he needed to keep an eye on the ruthless and erratic soldier.

  "Nobody fires a weapon save for Lecia unless you absolutely have to. We work through this place silent and smooth, and leave none alive. We do not let any signal get out. We do not damage those vehicles or wreck the uniforms of the brass we just saw go inside. I cannot stress that enough. You all with me on this?"

  They all nodded agreement, and he slung his captured rifle onto his back, hoping to not need it. He looked to Rane and Porter one last time and prayed they could approach the situation with the stealth and caution that was required; he'd never seen evidence of that from either before. He sighed, realising how unlikely it was to work before heading onwards.

  "Bet you can't wait to slip into one of those snazzy uniforms?" Porter joked to Corwin as they made their way quietly through foliage to reach the far edge of the fence where they could get over without being noticed.

  "You know I wonder how in the hell you ever stay fighting on our side. You'd fit right in with the enemy with how fucked up your thoughts are."

  Porter shrugged and seemed mildly curious.

  "But I'm one of the good guys, aren't I?"

  "That remains to be seen. It's never too late to disappoint."

  "Now you're getting it."

  "What?"

  "That life really is as fucked up as I see it. It's all a joke."

  "A joke you keep living?"

  "What else is there to do but hang on and enjoy the ride?"

  It was clear from the look in his eyes he wasn't joking. He was the only one amongst them who was genuinely enjoying himself. They reached the edge of the railings and passed through a gap in the trees nearby and found themselves at the edge of the open field alongside the manner house. Corwin stopped for just a moment to look around. He went to step out when he felt Porter's hand grab his shoulder and haul him back into cover. He was about to protest when he noticed Porter's other hand over his shoulder and pointed out to their left flank.

  In the shadows, he could just make out a tiny glimmer of movement and squinted to make out the shape of a guard slowly ambling along the tree line.

  "Just wait," whispered Porter.

  A few seconds later they saw the silhouette of Chas leaping out from the trees next to the soldier and land on his shoulders, with her legs wrapped around his waist. She gripped his head with both hands, and in one motion snapped his neck. He’d had no time to even think about defending himself.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?" Porter asked, as they watched the man collapse. Chas landed numbly on her feet over her victim, "To watch such a figure deal death without a worry in the world. It's art, and it's beautiful."

  Corwin shook his head.

  "You never cease to amaze me. We're facing a crisis the likes we have never known, that the world has never known, and you're obsessing over tits and ass?"

  Porter shrugged; he had no shame at all.

  "You've fucked her, and you think the same. You're just too hung up on some sense of morality and pride to admit what I am willing to. Who's fucked up now?"

  He couldn't deny it. For all of Porter's negative qualities, he never lied, and he always said it how he saw it, however twisted that might be. It made Corwin stop and think before remembering he had work to do.

  "Don't fuck this up for us now," he said to Porter.

  But he only smiled in response with his typical nihilistic sense of humour. Corwin drew out his knife and hunched low as he began moving across the open ground. He could feel his pulse rising as they drew nearer. They could just see the silhouette of the house, but there was so little moonlight they could make out no detail at all. Then as they got to fifteen metres from the perimeter, Corwin stopped on seeing the faintest of lights glow in front of him. He froze and watched the light grow a little brighter from a cigarette in a soldier’s mouth as he drew back on it.

  Corwin flipped the knife, caught it by the blade, and launched it with speed and precision. The tip penetrated the soldier’s right eye and drove through his skull, the hilt stopping dead at the eye socket. He rushed forwards and caught the body before it crashed to the stone wall running around the house. He let the body down carefully, drawing out the blade and wiping the blood off on the uniform of the dead German beneath him.

  The dead soldier didn't wear the armour he had seen on those the previous day, and carried a rifle far more antiquated than the assault rifle Corwin had taken. It was exactly as he expected a soldier of the Third Reich to look, and that was some relief; things hadn't changed too drastically, or he hoped so, anyway.

  He moved along the wall to double doors leading into the house. Above them was a window open on the first floor. He looked to Chas and pointed up. She took a run at the wall and jumped, landing with her hands on the frame of the window, nimbly pulling herself inside without a sound. Corwin reached for the handle of the door and slowly turned it as to not make a sound. He smiled on finding no resistance; it was unlocked. He pulled the door open and stepped inside to some kind of washroom. It was in darkness, although he could just see some light creeping inside from candles in the next room.

  Porter, Hunter, and Vi followed him in. He looked down at his knife and suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable, as if he’d entered the lion's den unprepared. He drew his pistol with his left hand and carried onwards to the light, stopping when he noticed a soldier sitting at a typewriter in the hallway next to a broad staircase. He was facing the front door of the house. Through a glass pane Corwin could see one of the guards standing at the entrance.

  He watched and waited until he saw the guard drop lifelessly to the ground. The man looked up in shock on seeing the movement out of the corner of his eye and got up to investigate, but Corwin took his opening. He leapt forward and wrapped his arm around the man's neck in a chokehold so that he could not make a sound and gripped tightly. The terrified soldier resisted for just a few seconds before passing out. Porter reached the typewriter and stared at it with an odd sense of curiosity, then turned his attention to a plate of cheese beside the machine. He picked up one of the blocks and took a bite, picked up the cheese wire next to it, and smiled.

  Corwin pointed for Vi and Hunter to take the ground floor; he and Porter took the stairs to the next level. They crept slowly and cautiously. Corwin winced as so many of the wooden slats creaked under foot. As they got half way up, they were relieved to hear music. It was sung in French and meant nothing to them. They reached the top of the stairs; the music was coming from a room along the hall. They crept closer, and Corwin peered around the corner.

  Inside were twelve soldiers lying around playing cards and drinking wine. It was if they had not a care in the world. Corwin tried to understand how they could go on so casually with the Allied operation having begun. Maybe they didn't know about it, which seemed preposterous considering the bomb
ardment, or they simply weren't threatened by it. Either way, it was unsettling. He noticed one of the men get up and say a few words before heading for the door. He ducked back out of the way and signalled the danger to Porter. They waited either side of the door for the man to exit. As he did so, he stopped and turned in shock to see Corwin. Before he could get a word out, Porter threw the cheese wire over the soldier’s head and pulled down tight.

  The wire cut into the man's flesh and suffocated him enough that there was no sound at all. Porter held on tight and dragged him back well out of view. As the man went limp, he lifted him up like a ragdoll and placed him in a nearby room that was quiet and dark. Corwin paced up to him and whispered into his ear.

  "Wait here. I'm going up. Do not engage them unless you absolutely have to."

  Porter nodded, but he wasn't sure how much he believed he would follow the order. Corwin carried on to the next flight of stairs, and once again carefully ascended them. As he reached the top, he found the body of a soldier with no marks at all, and knew it was Chas' work. He spotted her looking through the keyhole of a large pair of double doors. Corwin stepped up to her slowly and looked himself. He could see two officers sitting with their feet up on a large office table and smoking cigarillos. A gramophone blasted out the same track he had heard before.

  "We need those uniforms. There can be no blood," he whispered to Chas, "How can we do this?"

  She smiled in response and took two paces back. She unzipped and stepped out of her boots, slipped her combat trousers off, pulling off the skin-tight jacket and body armour she sported in one. She wore intricately woven white lace underwear. He smiled at the prospect of her going into battle that way, but it didn't surprise him. She pulled out the tie in her hair and let her long curly blond hair flow out onto her shoulders. Corwin couldn't believe the transformation. She looked like she could be a vintage pin-up girl.

  She waved him back to get out of the way, stepped up to the doorway, and knocked the door gently three times.

  "Hereinkommen!" a voice yelled brashly from inside.

  She smiled at Corwin briefly, and he could see a sexy, but wickedly devious glint in her eye. She turned back and swung the two doors open slowly before pushing out her hips, placing one hand on her hip and the other to her lips. Corwin couldn't help but smile as he looked at her beautiful body shining in the candlelight.

  He could hear the leers of the two Germans inside saying something he didn’t understand, and she strode into the room. He peered around the corner to watch her go to work. They were so intoxicated by her they didn’t even notice him watching it all unfold.

  She stepped up to the desk and leaned over to rest her elbows on the top. One of the officers got up and just marvelled at her before smacking her ass. She looked around and smiled in response, but Corwin could tell her enjoyment was coming from something very different than what they were expecting. He pulled his hand back to spank her once again, but as his hand rose up, she spun around and hit the man’s throat with a knife hand strike. His windpipe was crushed, and he collapsed unable to breathe.

  The other man jumped to his feet and reached for the pistol at his side, but she jumped over the table and launched her feet high over his body, wrapping them around his throat. He staggered back against the wall behind his desk and reached up to try to stop her chokehold. But she arched upwards and held on firm, punching him in the temple with three hard and precise strikes. He was stunned, and she only squeezed harder between her legs until he passed out. The two of them slumped down behind the desk beyond Corwin’s view.

  He stepped into the room as she arose from the desk with a bizarre smile on her face. She looked like a women who’d just won a beauty pageant. Her joy looked so innocent, and he could only shake his head in amazement.

  “You’re a fucking psycho, you know that, right?”

  She smiled and licked her lips, running her hands over her body in a blatant show off before him.

  “Grab your gear. Our work is far from done.”

  “Yes, Boss,” she replied.

  “Start stripping their uniforms. I have something to take care of downstairs.”

  He continued on down the stairway to where Porter was awaiting him, nodding to him as he approached, and they both knew it was time. Porter pulled out a German stick grenade he had liberated and twisted the priming cap off.

  “No, wait,” said Corwin, but his whispers were too quiet to be heard.

  The reckless Porter tossed it into the room before he could even get into position. They heard a spate of cries and panicked shouts from those in the room before the explosion rang out, and could hear glass shattering on the ground outside as the windows were blown out.

  “You crazy son of a bitch!” Corwin yelled.

  But Porter ignored him and stepped into the doorway of the room. His rifle was held at the hip, and he opened up on full auto, cutting down the survivors as they desperately reached for any weapon to hand. Corwin couldn’t even get in as he blocked the only entrance, and Porter didn’t release his finger from the trigger until the magazine ran empty.

  Finally, as all went silent, he went into the room and up to the last soldier still moving, clubbing his skull with the butt of his rifle until he stopped moving. Corwin stepped inside to see it was utter carnage, only to find Porter kneeling down beside one of his victims. But he wasn’t doing so out of any remorse or concern. He pulled out the metal tin of cigarillos from the dead soldier’s tunic pocket and proceeded to light one up.

  “Was that really necessary?”

  “Think of a better way of taking out a room full of guys? Not like we could have done it quiet,” he replied, smoking the cigarillo and breathing out a puff of smoke with a triumphant smirk.

  Corwin went to the top of the stairs and yelled, “Everyone okay?”

  “All clear!” Vi answered.

  “Could be a nice spot to rest out the night,” said Porter.

  “Really? A Nazi HQ when the Allied invasion has already begun? We want to be as far away from here as we possibly can. Let’s round up everything we need and get the hell out of here."

  Rane, Nylund, Vi, and Hunter appeared at the base of the stairs and awaited his orders.

  “Take everything you can get. Find the best uniforms you can, and load up those vehicles with all the ammo there is. Fifteen minutes and we are out of here.”

  They separated to do as ordered. He rushed back upstairs to find Tano already dressing himself in one of the officer’s uniforms, while Chas was still in her underwear and stripping the other body. She took off the last item and then proceeded towards him to present the mound of clothing.

  “What do I want with this?” Corwin asked.

  “You have to be the other officer in this,” replied Tano.

  “Why?”

  “Because you are in charge. Don’t worry, I will do any talking that needs to be done.”

  Corwin took the uniform. His knowledge of history wasn’t great, but he knew how awful the Nazi regime was, and he looked at the uniform with disgust.

  “Whatever it takes, remember,” said Tano to reassure him, “All the horrible things you’ve had to do, and you are balking at having to wear an offensive uniform?”

  “Sergeant, we’ve got incoming!” Nylund shouted.

  “He rushed to the edge of the stairs.

  “Who and how many?”

  “No idea, but they’re coming in fast!”

  “Take up positions. Cover all entry points, and keep your heads down!”

  Chapter 6

  Corwin rushed to the window in the room where Porter had thrown the grenade. He dragged one of the bodies away from the blown window and stood beside it, peering out just enough to get a look at what was coming their way. He knew Lecia was still out there with Beyett. That gave him some relief, and also a fear of what might become of them.

  You see them?” he asked Porter who was at the next window.

  “No.”

  But even
as he spoke, they saw movement in front of the gates. At first it was just a few men, and then more and more, until they could see a whole platoon forming there, and at least another platoon moving off to each flank. He could already tell they were not Germans. Their equipment was completely different, and he noticed a number wore red berets. He knew that as the iconic symbol of the British airborne.

  “Run or fight?”

  Corwin didn’t know how to answer.

  “They’re the good guys. We can’t fight them, and we won’t make it out on foot.”

  “We have to do something.”

  Corwin knew it was the case, but he had no idea what to do. He rushed back to the stairs.

  “These are the good guys. Do not fire on them! I repeat, do not fire on them!” he yelled for all to hear, but he wasn’t sure they would follow the order.

  The platoon at the entrance passed through the open gates and rushed towards the front of the manor house, ducking down behind two parked vehicles for cover. Corwin shook his head; he had fought so hard to protect their new method of transport, and here they were slap bang in the middle of a potential gun battle.

  They waited and watched, as the British soldiers seemed to wait and assess what they were seeing. The bodies of the German guards still lay scattered about the site, and that clearly made them both curious and suspicious.

  “Identify yourselves!” a voice finally yelled in a deep and crisply spoken English accent.

  “Sergeant Corwin, Rangers!”

  He knew it was a vague response, but he just had to hope they could get away with it. There was silence for a moment.

  “What is the code word?”

  Shit! He knew they were in trouble.

  “We’ve been operating here for three months and have not had comms for some time. We are a covert outfit! We knew this operation was happening, but have not been party to the specifics!”

  He knew he was making stuff up and trying to bullshit his way through now, but it was all he could think.

  “Show yourself!”

  What the hell!