Excerpt from the private journals of commissar Liadov, circa early January 1974:
And I thought Allied Cryocopters and Mirage tanks were scientifically insane. In just one day, I have had to deal with enormous mechanized monstrosities, Nipponese armed with what I can only describe as swords of light, and helicopters that transform into walking anti-air platforms. This would seem harmlessly eccentric were it not for the fact that these things wrecked untold death upon my soldiers and members of the Soviet proletariat.
I fear that this threat may be greater than the Allies themselves. Not only does recent intelligence indicate that the Japanese population and industrial capacity is far more greater than estimates put them, but many of our forces are still diverted in Europe following Krukov's counterattack towards Berlin around Christmas. However, a far more pressing concern for myself right now is the fact that our cache of vodka has run out. I must send for another urgently as soon as possible, or all will be lost.
**
"Men, there are times when to properly serve the motherland and the Soviet people you must throw yourself into the mouth of the enemy and tear its throat out, disregarding all fear and hesitation. This is not one of those times. This is one of those times when we must run as fast as is humanly possible, probably while waving your arms and screaming like little girls."
Commissar Liadov leant against a wall panting, while the battered, grubby collection of conscripts crouched around him, the remnants of the division he had been attached to, looked sombre. They had arrived here in the Murmansk area not that long ago, to counter the sudden Japanese invasion. Within minutes, they had come under fire from the coast, with railgun shells pulverizing tanks and vaporizing any infantry they came into contact with due to the sheer speed they were fired at. Strange helicopters and what appeared to be flying armored infantry had rained seemingly unlimited amounts of missiles from above, destroying places of cover. Amphibious tanks had casually bypassed the icy terrain and flushed infantry out of hiding. He had thusly decided that there really was no point in any futile heroics or the charges that he would usually sanction.
"I cannot believe it." One of the men crumbled. "How could we let those little goats build such things in our own backyard? Did we not notice?"
"Because we were distracted with the Allies. What is one little group of islands next to the entire West? Besides, the goats had closed up their country ever since they took Hawaii from the Americans back in 1941. They utterly annihilated the capitalist navy at Pearl Harbor—similar to what they're doing here, in fact." Sighed Liadov.
"Perhaps we could surrender?" suggested a young conscript, his boyish round face covered in snow and muck. "That worked with the Allies."
"I've heard what these people did to people who surrendered in their holdings in China and Indonesia. They make the KGB look like nursery teachers." Growled another one.
"Our priority is getting the fuck out of here." Continued Liadov. "He who lives to run away, lives to fight another day. There is a train siding near here that will take us towards Moscow, where we can regroup. All we need to do is head there and hope that we do not bump into any enemies."
"What about those flying things?" asked another soldier.
"Let them come." Growled one of the flak soldiers in the group, brandishing his oversized weapon. Penal troops, pulled from the gulags to supplement the already large Soviet ranks—too often they tried to make a break for it in battle, and too often Liadov had had to put a bullet through their brains for desertion. But, given the situation, he doubted that they'd try that sort of stunt now.
He took a look over the snowy expanse before him, dotted with the odd concrete block, ruined defensive bunker, and burning car wreck. Could they make it? Fuck it, they'd try.
"Very well then. If we stay here, we're guaranteed to die. If we move, we may die, but at least we have a chance of survival. Follow me if you prefer the second option." With that, he began trudging through the snow, holding his thick black leather commissar jacket to him and keeping his hat on as the wind blew. If there was one element of his dignity that he was going to keep through this ordeal no matter what, it was his hat. He had never lost his hat in battle and he wasn't going to do so now.
Passing a building with a faded image of Cherdenko covering one side of it—some of the soldiers spat at it, but he didn't bother shooting them like he normally would, there were higher priorities for his bullets—they followed a sign reading 'вокзал'—train station. Rats scurried around dead bodies lying in the snow around wrecked cars, which the troops naturally ignored.
"How much longer?" groaned of them.
"It shouldn't be far now. All of our bases here may belong to them, but I doubt they've come this far, so keep on."
Moments after he spoke, there was a low rumble and snow was shaken off nearby benches and parked vehicles, with icicles falling off the surfaces they were hanging from. Freezing, the troops lay down prone in the snow as Liadov gestured for them to do so. He swore violently under his breath—the soldiers were wearing white versions of conscript uniform, giving them at least some camouflage, but here he was in his jet-black commissar uniform standing out like a sober man in a Kiev bar. Fucking army tailors.
Rumbling past some apartment blocks in the distant, jumping around the buildings like a big playground, was a thirty-foot tall thing—like some sort of bulky robotic gorilla, with a head like some samurai warrior. Walking beside it were regular troops, looking slightly silly in their archaically styled uniforms, but he had seen what those weapons they were holding did to people. At first glance, he had assumed them to be energy weapons, but medics poking around in the semi-liquefied organs of the troops unlucky enough to be hit by them had discovered superheated rounds, heated and fired to such an extent that they would instantly pulverize the ribcage of any man hit by them. Digging himself further into the snow, he hoped they wouldn't notice him.
After a few moments, the thing and the soldiers turned around and head off in the opposite direction—towards the town waterworks, if he remembered the local maps correctly. He breathed a sigh of relief and began to get up.
"BANZAI!" A straight blue beam suddenly struck one of the nearby conscripts as he got up, and he stood still and taut, seemingly paralyzed. Hovering about fifty feet above them were two of the flying armored soldier things, looking vaguely like metallic butterflies from the ground. As the conscripts began to open fire, the other began to unleash a volley of missiles. Streaking downwards with blue contrails snaking behind them, the missiles impacted in and around the group, blasting up snow and debris. A few struck some of the men directly, blasting them apart and splattering blood and bodily fluid on to the white of the snow around them. Nevertheless, struck by dozens of rounds as the conscripts blazed madly into the air, the two things turned around and sped off, with one spiralling out of control and crashing into a building as assault rifle rounds cut through its internal systems.
Hoping that that hadn't attracted the attention of that other group, Liadov turned around and swore as he saw the huge robot and the infantry coming towards them. Motioning for the troops to follow, he ran for cover behind a nearby lorry as blue-hot rounds streaked overhead. One of them struck one of the conscripts in the head, smashing his skull like a grape being crushed under a hammer and knocking his body several feet to the side. Panting, whimpering and some even weeping for their mothers, the conscripts joined Liadov behind the lorry.
"We're fucked. We're fucked." Babbled one of them, shaking and breathing heavily.
"We are not." Said Liadov as he suddenly remembered something he had noticed while studying the maps. "All we need to do is make sure that thing comes closer towards us."
"With all due respect, comrade commissar, have you gone insane?"
"Usually, I'd be obliged to shoot you for that comment, we're all in this together." The ground began to shake again and pinging noises became audible as the lorry came under fire from the enemy infantry. Holes appeared in the side as the rounds began to penetrate, cutting through its chassis and out the other side.
A whining sound began to drown out the sounds of the enemy weapons firing and Liadov's eyes widened. "Everyone follow me! Move, move, move, MOVE!" Sprinting out from behind the lorry, he raced for a nearby row of parked cars as the men followed. Seconds later, pulsing energy beams shot from the eyes of the robot as it entered the wide space they were in, blasting apart the lorry and showering the immediate area in flaming debris. Stumbling as the blast hit them, the troops ducked behind the cars, their windows shattering as the enemy diverted its fire in their direction.
"Podgorny!" barked Liadov to a conscript armed with a scoped rifle. "Fire at that thing! Aim for its head!"
"What good will that do?"
"Just do it!"
Poking his body out from behind cover, Podgorny aimed his rifle and fired, striking the thing in the head. Moments later, he screamed and collapsed onto the ground as a round grazed his soldier, burning through his flesh and vaporizing his blood. As a medic with them began cauterizing procedures, Liadov watched as the thing began to accelerate and charge towards them.
"It's coming!" shouted one of the conscripts as he burst into tears.
"Wait." Said Liadov tensely. Moments later, the ground under the thing's feet suddenly caved inwards and it plunged straight into water, disappearing under it. Liadov smiled in satisfaction. Just as the maps had indicated, there had been a frozen pond here. Covered in snow, the ice had been indistinguishable from the rest of the surrounding terrain.
"Men! Get out and return fire! Let us show these apes who their 'Lucky Star' really favors!"
Shooting patriotic and profanity-filled battle cries, the conscripts opened fire, knocking down some of the enemy troops as they span around and began running off. Liadov smiled, then looked around and finally noted the train siding in the distance beyond some apartment blocks, with a freight wagon and locomotive waiting there. There was a Hero of the Soviet Union medal in here somewhere, he thought in satisfaction, and all it had taken was a dumb robot falling into water.