Time War: Invasion (13 page)

"You know I thought I had heard it all? But time travelling super soldiers? No Sergeant, you are a spy, or some sort of clandestine agent or another. Maybe you are physically enhanced beyond the strength of any normal man, but by who and why, I wouldn't like to say. We aren't done here, but we are for now. I have better things to do with my time than discuss such nonsense. Real work and real intelligence gathering to do," he said, pointing to the door for Corwin to leave.

"You're making a huge mistake."

But Hotwell would not look at him. "Guard!"

Corwin got up to find the guard already at the entrance waiting for him, as he had clearly not gone far. The man led him out of the building and into the main yard.

"Time travel? What on earth have you been drinking?" joked the soldier, leading him on at gunpoint. Corwin looked around to see the smile on his face and then turned back to find a soldier standing right in his path. He was a tall and well-built German, the largest he had seen, matching Corwin in size. His head was shaven, and he wore a faded and scruffy field grey uniform. He had two scars on the left side of his face and was looking at Corwin with disgust.

"You are not one of us," he stated in a thick German accent.

"No shit," replied Corwin.

"Not one of us, what are you doing here?"

"That's a good fucking question."

He tried to step past the man, but he held out his hand and placed it against Corwin's chest to stop him, taking a pace in front of him once again.

"Then you are not welcome here," he stated grimly.

Corwin laughed.

"Not welcome? It's a fucking prison, why would anyone want to be welcome here?"

"He wants to fight you," said the British guard behind him, stepping further back and obviously waiting for the action to unfold.

"You don't want this," Corwin said to the German.

But without warning, the man swung a heavy and clumsy hook towards his head. Corwin took a step back with his right leg to plant himself, holding out his left to catch the fist mid air. The powerful strike was stopped dead with no effort at all, and the man looked terrified. Corwin replied with a straight punch from the right that hit the man in the face, launching him three metres back and off his feet. He tumbled to the ground as a lifeless mess. One of his comrades jumped to his side to feel for his pulse but shook his head in disbelief.

"Dead," he muttered.

Everyone looked at him in horror as some kind of freak, but the British guard was taking him seriously now.

"All right, move!" He pushed Corwin with the barrel of his gun to keep going. He was led back to his bunkroom. He stepped inside to see that his comrades had not moved an inch since he left. Though it didn't surprise him, as they had nothing to do with their time.

"Did you make any progress?"

Corwin shrugged.

"I made a few points that can't be refuted, Beyett, but how do you prove our story? I wouldn't have believed it, so why would anyone else?"

"Says the man who got us into this," said Porter, "We should never have given ourselves up."

"That the case or not, we are here now, and we must make every attempt to win the support of the Allied forces. We need their help as much as they need ours. They just don't know it yet," added Beyett.

"So what do we do?" asked Corwin.

"What we are already doing. We remain honest, make no attempt to escape, do not harm any Allied servicemen, and do not associate with the enemy."

"I don't think that'll be a problem." Corwin thought of the German he had just killed.

Two weeks later.

Corwin strolled through the camp. It was the most exercise they could hope for, and they were all anxious to get out and back on mission.

“Any news?”

“The operation in and around Dieppe that we got drawn into,” said Beyett.

“What of it?”

“It’s failed. I don’t know exactly how badly, but the Allies failed to gain a beachhead and were forced to withdraw across the Channel.”

“But it went a lot better than the Dieppe raid you remember?”

“Yes,” replied Beyett begrudgingly.

“So what’s the problem?”

“As I said, I think this version on the Dieppe raid was something of a cross between what happened, and the D-Day landings of next year. With the Soviet Union about to fall, the Allies must have pushed their plans ahead and tried to make some headway into France.”

“And now?”

“Dieppe was a necessary tragedy that provided many lessons for the D-Day landings. I fear this is just a simple tragedy. With the Soviet Union gone, the Germans will have substantial resources to send this way.”

“You’re full of good news,” Nylund said, walking behind them.

“Sorry, but I am only telling you the facts.”

“And now, what do you think will happen from here?”

Beyett shrugged.

“Come on, you know better than any of us.”

“One of the biggest disappointments of Hitler’s time in power was that he could not carry out his treasured operation Sea Lion.”

“Sea Lion?” asked Corwin.

“Some ridiculous attempt at a seaborne assault on England early in the war. But without air supremacy, it was doomed to failure. Again, with the Soviet Union defeated, and with whatever magic Villiers is working, I have no doubt we will see that operation come to fruition.”

“Then this is a lot worse than we could have expected.”

“Oh, yes, have no doubts, the safety of the free world never knew this danger. We may be all that can turn the tide now.”

“No pressure,” joked Corwin.

“Think about it. Nothing positive has changed for the Allies. But the Axis have gotten powerful enough to destroy one of the Allied nations this early in the war. Unless something changes drastically, I can see no hope of victory. We are all that can change the fate of this war now.”

“The Allies did first time around, though, how are you so sure they can’t this time?” asked Nylund.

“He’s not. He’s just taking a guess,” Porter joined in the conversation.

“Yes, nonetheless an educated one,” added Beyett.

“Still not getting anywhere with the Captain?” asked Harland, “I’m surprised they haven’t resorted to torture yet.”

“Be thankful these are better men than we ever were,” replied Beyett.

“Every day he asks me the same questions, and every day I say the same thing in a different way. He thinks he is going to catch me out somehow, not understanding every word I speak is the truth.”

“Then you need to find a new way to explain it.”

“I don’t think your methods on tact and diplomacy are anything I want to take from, Porter.”

Another three weeks passed, and they heard and saw nothing new. The interned prisoners didn’t dare utter another word to them after the death of one of their own at Corwin’s hands, and the camp guards treated them with just as much suspicion. They were starting to lose hope, morale, and their minds. It was just after midnight one night like any other. All lights were out, but few were asleep; just Hunter who seemed to manage to sleep whenever he pleased, and as much as possible.

“We’re never getting out of this hell are we?” Nylund asked, as they all lay in their beds dreaming of better days.

“At least nobody is shooting at you.”

“Tano, I’d take that any day over this,” said Nylund.

His voice was a little shaky, and Corwin understood how he thought. They all felt trapped and hopeless.

“We’re the strongest resource these allied armies could ever have hoped for, and what do they do with us? Fuck all!”

”Our time will come, Porter,” Beyett said.

“Hope so, because it doesn’t sound like time is on our side,” Nylund muttered, “Something has to change.”

They all went quiet. But just ten seconds later they heard the crack of automatic gunfire, and a grenade explode not far from their position. They leapt from their beds and rushed for the windows.

“Careful what you wish for!” Corwin shouted.

They watched and waited. All hell seemed to be breaking loose as more guns joined in with the skirmish.

“Any thoughts, Beyett?”

“Why the enemy would be attacking a POW camp?”

Corwin nodded.

“Must be someone pretty important for such an operation on English soil.”

“What are we going to do, stand by and let is happen?”

“Fuck no, Harland,” replied Corwin, “This is our chance. Follow me.”

He strode to the door of their block and kicked it full force. The hinges buckled, and the whole door flew off in one piece, striking the block opposite them. He stepped out to find a German soldier running towards him. He spun and grabbed the rifle, smashing his hand into the man’s knees so that he flipped over and landed hard on his back. Corwin proceeded to stamp on his face and crush his skull. He then took the submachine gun from the corpse. He threw the weapon to Porter, who was next out of the door, and turned to carry on.

Porter ripped the webbing pouch belt from the man’s body and smiled. “This is more like it,” he stated with glee.

Corwin reached the end of their building. Three camp guards were firing on the oncoming Germans, but were overcome by POWs that had escaped from one of the nearby buildings. Light machine guns were firing from two towers further into the camp, but the gate towers were smouldering and quiet.

The building where he had been interrogated in was about to be breached by several German soldiers. They’d blown the door off and threw in several grenades.

“Porter, Beyett, you’re with me. Everyone else split up and get to work!”

He knew that was all the information they needed, as almost everyone in the camp was an enemy to them now. As they approached the front building, they heard the echo of automatic fire from inside. Corwin ran for the door at a full sprint and jumped inside without any care or caution. He had seen three enemy soldiers enter. The gunfire had stopped momentarily, until he heard three lower calibre pistol shots ring out.

“Lay down your weapon!” a German voice called out.

Corwin passed the camp commander’s office to see he was slumped dead over his desk. He took a bend; the three soldiers were waiting to breach Captain Hotwell’s office. Another shot rang out from a pistol inside the room, as one of the Germans pulled out a grenade. Corwin rushed at the man at full speed, hitting him so hard they barrelled through the single brick wall and thundered into the office, to the surprise of the Captain. Corwin grabbed the man by his helmet and smashed his neck down against the side of the desk to break his neck.

He then picked up one of the bricks that had landed on the desk and threw it full force at one of the other Germans standing in the doorway. It hit him in the nose and broke it, blood spewing out over his face as he staggered back. The next raised his weapon to shoot, but two shots rang out from Hotwell’s pistol, and the soldier was hit in his arm twice, forcing him to lose grip on his rifle and stumble back beside the other.

Corwin did not waste this opportunity. He jumped forward and grabbed the barrel of the gun of one and put it against the thigh of the other before squeezing the trigger. Three shots ripped through the man’s leg as he collapsed to the floor. Corwin then smashed the stock of the rifle into the man still carrying it until he released his grip through the pain.

The Sergeant spun the rifle around and fired a burst into his chest, but the body armour took it all, so he raised the barrel and put one between the eyes. Finally, he turned back to the other. He was reaching for his weapon that had fallen out of reach but was unable to move as he was bleeding out. Corwin kicked the rifle out from his reach, placing his foot over the wounded leg and applying pressure. The soldier screamed in pain, but it was drowned out by the gunfire outside.

“Who are you here for?” Corwin shouted.

But the man only screamed in pain once again. He released pressure.

“Who are you here for?” he asked more calmly.

Corwin placed his foot above the wound and threatened to stamp on it once more.

“Okay, okay,” the man pleaded, “Please.”

“Start talking. What are you here for?”

“Corporal Winter.”

“A Corporal? How can one Corporal be worth all this?” Hotwell asked, stepping up to Corwin’s side.

He said nothing, and Corwin began to apply the lightest pressure on his leg.

“Okay, okay!”

He took his leg away and waited. The man took a deep breath and knew he had no choice but to let it out.

“He is Ubermensch.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“Supermen…” replied Hotwell.

Corwin could already see where this was going. He was all too aware of the levels Villiers had gone to enhance his soldiers like the A.P.E.S.

“Why is he so fucking important?”

“He is one of the first in a new army that will be unstoppable.”

“How was he captured?” Corwin asked Hotwell.

“In Dieppe like you, but I don’t know how.”

“Probably put into the fight to test his abilities. Losing a test subject like that must have been a kick in the teeth.”

“Why?”

“Because of pride, you see what this man thinks of this Corporal Winter. I bet they have paraded him around as the next hero of the German people. How embarrassing do you think it must be that he is stuck in a POW camp?”

“They are doing this all for one man?”

“No, for one idea. If the Allies discovered who he was, it could be embarrassing.”

They both looked to the wounded man on the floor, and he seemed to nod in approval. Corwin raised his rifle.

“No!’ Hotwell yelled.

But it was too late. Corwin squeezed the trigger, and a single shot went into the man’s forehead just below the line of his helmet. He died instantly.

“Sergeant, you can’t just kill unarmed men, whether they are the enemy or not.”

“Yeah, well I just did.”

Hotwell was too intimidated and thankful for his help to argue. He cracked open his revolver and loaded in six fresh bullets.

“You’re gonna want something a little bigger than that.” Corwin picked up the submachine gun from one of the other bodies and thrust it into his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“They want to get that superman out of here, you want to let them get away with it?”

Hotwell shook his head. “No, but, but…”

“But what?”

“I am not a field officer. I’ve never even had to discharge my weapon outside of training.”

“Yeah, well time to break that cycle. Man the fuck up, and let’s go.”

He stripped all the magazines he could from the bodies and rushed on out of the building. There were four bodies at the door and Porter stood triumphantly over them.

“What’s the plan?” Beyett asked.

“You familiar with the term Ubermensch?”

He nodded.

“Yeah, well there was one in this camp, and they’re trying to bust him out.”

“Villiers must be at his old tricks.”

“No surprise there,” replied Porter.

Gunfire rang out in the distance, and they could see two trucks tear off down the main road. Several camp guards fired on the vehicles as they fled.