“What do you want to do?”
Marcus lifted a hand, and Torsten gave the order to halt. The machine stopped after two more steps and waited in silence. The diesel generators wound down so that just the electrical systems buzzed with power. On a quiet night out in the countryside the machine would be audible, but not here, in the centre of New York City, with the wind blowing through the city blocks.
“Just wait. Trust me, they’re young and eager to fight. Patience is not one of…”
At that moment, something moved behind a half completed apartment block. It wasn’t much. But it was enough to betray the shape of a walking machine, this time a much larger model.
“It’s Black Panther!” Torsten said excitedly.
“Yes. And there’s one more out there.”
He licked his lips and rested his chin on his left fist.
“Pull us back and move around the buildings to the left.
“Are you…”
Torsten stopped before finishing his question. He could see Marcus was concentrating, and that this was exactly what he wanted. There were very few experienced landship officers in North America, and Marcus’ reputation was among the best.
“Understood.”
The massive machine circled the building, simultaneously keeping its main guns pointing towards the enemy machine. There were now two tower blocks between them, and little chance of either being able to hit the other. Nonetheless, Black Panther began firing.
“Incoming fire!”
“Ignore it,” said Marcus, “Just keep bringing us around. They’re trying to pull us in.”
The great machine took three more steps to clear the large tower, and there before them was the second of the smaller machines. It was moving quickly, trying to escape to the next building.
“There! Gunners, blast them!”
The guns roared, but this time the walker was already on the move, and half the shots missed. Marcus rose from his seat as the paint shells exploded against the buildings.
“Hit them, damn it!”
The walker began to move behind a tower just as a shell landed perfectly in the centre structure, quickly followed by another to the right knee. The driver slowed and then the machine stopped, its weapons lowered in resignation.
“Two down. Just the Panther left.”
“I know. Now it’s time to teach them about firepower. Bring us out into the open.”
Torsten’s brow creased, but he passed on the orders. Eiserner Gott moved out from cover and headed to the open green. The machine towered above all else, and when Marcus gave the order, they straightened out the legs, lifting the height of the machine even higher.
“I see him. He’s coming out from behind the right tower.”
“Keep moving,” said Marcus, “Get us in his sights.”
It took seconds to reach the centre of the open ground and turn around to face off against Black Panther. Marcus licked his lips as he looked out at his prey.
“Bring the shields around and ready the guns. Driver, when you see the flash, boost the pistons and shift us to the right. Return fire on my mark.”
They stopped speaking and turned their attention to the target. Marcus spun the periscopes around, checking behind for any sign of danger. The drill was supposed to be for the four machines, but one thing combat had taught him was to always be ready.
“Activate the speakers. It’s time to talk to him.”
A high-pitched squeal vibrated though the metal interior as the external klaxon speakers switched on, and the intercom diverted to them.
“This is Kapitän Marcus Klenner of the rebel landship, Eiserner Gott. Your comrades have been destroyed, and you have no chance of victory. Lower your guns and surrender.”
“Nothing, Sir,” said Hans Hendrik, “I’m lined up on her guns and so far, nothing.”
Marcus lifted a hand to silence him.
“Start-up the generators and boost the reserves. Be ready.”
The diesel power plants activated one at a time, using power from the first to start the next. The entire sequence took a matter of seconds, but it seemed like an age inside the machine.
“What are they waiting for?” Torsten asked.
A large cloud of black smoke puffed from the smoke stacks of Black Panther, and then it came thundering ahead. At first it didn’t seem to be moving, even though the position of its limbs and the clouds of smoke suggested otherwise. And then it vanished from view as a dozen charges in the ground detonated. A thick soup of white smoke filled the area.
“Clever…very clever,” said Marcus, “Open fire, last known position.”
The guns thundered away, but Marcus knew the machine was no longer directly ahead.
“Move starboard, strafe to the water’s edge. The air over the river will help dissipate the smoke.”
Eiserner Gott sidestepped quickly, and then broke out into a trot, moving closer and closer to the raised bank. Work had stopped along this part of the development, leaving a nice stonework promenade and gently descending water defences. Eiserner Gott slid to a stop and turned, her back to the water.
“Perfect. Aim low with the guns, and Karl…”
“Yes, Kapitän?”
Be ready to use our shoulder. Twist and spin.”
“Got it.”
There was a delay of perhaps four seconds, maybe five, and then the Panther tore out through the white clouds and was in front of them. There was little time to fire, and even Marcus had no time to speak. It all came down to Karl, and his timing was to perfection. The primitive Militant was travelling too fast to change course, and he used the classic martial arts move of timing and deflection. Rather than brace and return fire, as might be expected, he moved one foot away from the charge, and then twisted at the hips to the right. The two machines crashed together with an almighty bang, but the Panther kept on going. Without the Kriegsmarine machine to halt its momentum, the lighter walker staggered past and tipped front first into the frozen waters of the river.
“Bring us about,” said Marcus.
Eiserner Gott turned around while lowering her weapons. The walker was already sinking in the water, and soon just the shoulders would remain dry.
“We gonna let them drown?” asked a stunned Torsten.
“Not just yet,” Marcus said, a glint in his eye, “Let’s give them a few seconds to fully understand what just happened.”
The crew began laughing until Torsten spotted more walkers arriving. The two smaller Militants moved to each side of Eiserner Gott and then paused. Paint covered their torsos, and one had a damaged leg, probably from a glancing impact with a damaged building.
“Okay, let’s get them out.”
CHAPTER FIVE
8th February 2018
FDNY Engine 24, South Manhattan.
“I’m coming with you,” Charlie insisted.
Ray just laughed as he gathered his equipment beside on old Ford Crown Vic. It was unmistakeable, what used to be an ORPO cruiser. The bull bars and spot lamp were still in place, but it had been given a cheap spray job some years before. Rust was already breaking through in several places, and a similar condition Chevy Suburban was parked behind it.
“I can drive. You need drivers.”
“We can all drive,” said Zoey.
“Think you could have found better wheels?” Gerry asked.
“This is what we’ve got. They are dependable, and they won’t attract attention.”
“But I can help, I want to help.”
Ray finally stopped and addressed Charlie head on.
“You aren’t coming,” he said firmly.
“Why, because you think I am too young? I can fight as well as anyone here.”
“No, not because you are too young.”
“Why then?”
“Because Woody said I could take just two with me, in addition to Gerry and his guys.”
“Like you have ever taken orders so literally,” he protested.
Gerry l
aughed because he knew it was true.
“Look, Woody is asking us to do the impossible, and he knows it. If the SS are aiming their sights at Baltimore, then whatever resistance there is down there will be finished.”
“Then why are you going?”
He didn’t even know how to explain it.
“Because people need hope,” said Baker.
Roy nodded along in agreement as he went on.
“If we try to help, and we fail, we will have made a valiant effort. We might even become martyrs that are celebrated. Our names brandished as propaganda by our friends. But if we do nothing, then hope dies, and faith in our cause…dies.”
“Well said, as ever.”
“Eloquently said,” he added with a smile.
“I can still help. You know I can.”
“We’ll be just fine, and Woody needs friends right now more than ever. You have been around him longer than I have. Find him, and do as he says.”
“But…”
“But nothing. You are needed here. Now go.”
Charlie slinked off. It was clear he was bitter about being left behind.
“That much enthusiasm to get out there and do something, it shouldn’t be wasted,” said Gerry.
“No, but he’s just a kid. He isn’t ready yet.”
“We were kids once.”
“Yeah, and just as foolish.”
“Maybe, but we had people who knew better to keep us in check.”
“And that job now falls to you? God help us.”
The remainder of Baker’s team stepped up beside him to await their orders.
“Chaps, you already know this is my good friend Ray Barnes,” said Baker.
“Lisa and Zoey.” Ray pointed to the two he had brought with him.
“That there with the shotgun is Roy.”
He was the largest man of the lot, about thirty-years-old but with barely any hair left, a scrunched-up face, and broad shoulders, he looked like a pit bull.
That’s Johnny and Flinn,” he said, looking at the two carrying captured German weapons. They looked near identical.
“Brothers?”
“Nothing gets past you, does it?”
“And this one?” Ray asked.
He carried an old British-made Enfield, but this was a T variant, selected for its precision accuracy and fitted with a large telescopic sight. The rifle was a relic when Ray had last seen them used in London, a leftover from the War. The woodwork was well worn, yet clearly cherished and kept in the best order possible. The man was small and with mousy features. He looked younger than he probably was, as there was so much wisdom in his eyes. His overall appearance was shabby, and in complete contrast with his well kept weapon. His fingerless woollen gloves were ragged, his coat torn, and face dirty. He wore a week’s worth of stubble. If Ray didn’t know better, he’d have assumed he was nothing more than a bum.
“This is Hugo, our French connection.”
“French? Long way from home?”
“Aren’t we all?” Gerry asked.
“You any good with that?”
“I can shoot,” replied the Frenchman.
Gerry laughed at his modesty.
“That thing should be in a museum, you know.”
Ray looked at the wooden stocked bolt-action rifle, but Hugo gripped onto it tighter as if it would take his life for him to let it go.
“All right, get this show on the road. Gerry you’re with me. Your guys can take the Suburban. We’ve got some catching up to do.”
Baker nodded towards his men. They didn’t need anything more. Gerry got behind the wheel of the cruiser and his old British friend sat beside him. It was clear that most of the rebels about the station had no idea where they were heading or why. It truly felt like they were on their own.
“Seems like suicide missions are still your kind of thing?”
“I don’t intend on dying down there, and neither should any of you.”
“Then why not send some real support? What can eight fighters make?”
“This isn’t a straight up fight. You’d be surprised what we’ve achieved with less,” replied Lisa.
“The Bronx was a reminder of what we are. We aren’t front-line soldiers, but we can give them hell if we pick the right time and place. We have to put everything in our favour, the terrain, the timing, the odds, all of it.”
“You’re talking about guerrilla tactics?”
“Damn right, I am. You saw what happened in London. In a straight up fight when the Reich can bring all its resources to the fight, we get destroyed. But this is our land, and our country, and we are gonna fight them how we want to fight.”
Ray slipped the car into drive, and they rolled out into the street. Four armed rebels were standing guard outside in the light of day. A sign of how far they had come.
“A familiar sight, isn’t it?” Baker asked, thinking back to London.
“I guess.”
“You must to be used to it now, to have taken back your city?”
“Not really. It wasn’t so long ago you’d be shot on sight for stepping out on the street with a weapon in hand.”
“Really? I thought things were further along than that.”
Ray smiled. “I wish. You know how rumours work. We kill ten SS soldiers, and people say we defeated a hundred. Wipe out a company, and they say we beat an army.”
“I guess people just want to cling to hope. That is what you have given them, you know that, right?”
“We were fighting plenty before Ray got here,” said Lisa.
There was bitterness in her voice. She was still angry at the loss of Weathers, and the fact that Ray hadn’t been there.
Could I have made a difference? Maybe, but I have to put that to the back of my mind. There’s nothing I can do about it now.
“I guess we are a little late to the game, then.”
“No, far from it, Gerry. Your timing couldn’t be better.”
“So you fought with Ray in London?”
“For my sins, Zoey, yes.”
“What have you been doing since?” Lisa asked.
“Prison, labour camps, that about covers most of it.”
“How is it over there?”
“Bad, Ray, worse than ever,” he said wearily.
There was so much sadness in his voice that Ray didn’t want to push any further.
“So you were released?”
“Not as such, Zoey. I tried escaping many times over the years, but without anywhere to go, it never served much purpose. I’d try, and hide and survive, and get picked back up again eventually. Not much point escaping when there is nothing to escape to.”
“Until now,” said Ray.
“Until now, indeed.”
“It can’t have been easy to get over here?” Zoey asked.
He looked grim. “Nine of us set out to get here.”
He didn’t need to explain further. They could all do the maths.
“How about you, Ray?”
“Since I last saw you, I’ve been behind bars more days than I've been free, that’s for sure.”
“The Reich, do they know you have escaped? Are they coming after you?” Lisa joined in.
“Most definitely, we left more than a few bodies in our wake.”
“But you’re with us now, so none of that matters,” added Ray.
“No, we came here for a second chance, a new life, much like your ancestors did once. The American dream,” he said with a guarded smile.
“The American dream? That got paused for a few decades.”
“But we are fighting for it,” said Zoey.
“Damn right we are,” Lisa agreed.
“I got to say, we didn’t see a lot of women fighting in our day.”
“They can kill just as efficiently as anyone else,” replied Ray.
“It is everyone’s responsibility to fight the Reich. The young, the old, it don’t matter. It don’t matter if you’ve got no legs or are still in school,
there is something you can do,” said Zoey.
“I’m sure all of you here think that, but what about the rest of your country?”
“They are starting to see a way forward, same as all of us,” replied Ray.
“Back in London, that is what we never had. We never had enough support. Sure plenty of people believed in what we were doing, but they were too scared to act. If you are going to lead a rebellion, you need the support of the people, or you have nothing.”
“Working on it.”
They all fell silent, contemplating what that meant. They knew the stakes were high, and there was still so much uncertainty. They had support in New York, but that seemed so modest to the far-reaching Reich influence. It was a bleak scene that lay around them. The snow-capped fields of New Jersey were a desolate sight, and each town they passed through looked near deserted. The roads were quiet, as if people were too scared to go anywhere. They were taking a long route; they had to, to be certain to avoid any ORPO checkpoints.
“I guess you didn’t have it so bad here,” Baker said at last.
“What the hell are you saying?” Zoey appeared offended that he was suggesting they’d had an easy time of it.
“He’s right, Zoey. You didn’t see what they did to London, and I hear it got a whole lot worse after.”
“Worse? How can it get worse?”
“It can always get worse,” Baker said sadly.
“Best not to think about it. Those were bad days, but they are past us. We’ve got something more here. The chance to fight back that we never had then.”
“You think we were wrong to fight in London? You regret going?”
“No, I regret losing. We should never feel bad for giving everything for what we believe in.”
There was such sadness in his voice, but also a brutal honesty, and that struck at Lisa to the core. It was hard to keep feeling angry with him for doing everything he could.
“And you, Gerry? You lost your country, how’d you feel about fighting for someone else’s, like Ray did back then?”
“I’d love to walk free in England again, Lisa, but I’ll fight Nazis wherever they need to be fought. I’d go to the Moon if that is what it took. They have destroyed everything I know and love, and I’m gonna make them pay.”
Soldiers of Tomorrow: The Winter War Page 7
