JJAndrews: Well, I will not dispute your way of thinking. You make a good case on it being the Galaxy Gun, and it certainly does fit the bill on destructive capabilities, however i can't tell you if you are correct or not in your assumption or not. It is partially original, but like i said before, it will be the basis for another superweapon.

rakhafitra21: I went to a planet name generator and i picked a few that sounded like they could be analogues for the real ones. But that was only for the Major powers like England, France, China, Germany, Italy, Japan, and the USSR. The others are using older versions of the name of the country's name

Enchie: No, Russia and the Soviet Union are not separate nations. the Rarus Federation, like the Soviet Union, is a union of various republics, which is made up of Belya Rus, Ukrania, the various Stans, and Rus

Dawnofdorne: It's Belgica for Belgium. Why do you ask, did I use two different names in different updates?

...

This update is dedicated to Richard "Dick" Winters and the men of Easy Company, Second Battalion, of the 506th Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division. May their story endure forever, their friendships stand the tests of time, and may we never forget the sacrifices they made, and the ones who weren't able to return home.

Currahee!

...

Year 14, Month 05, Day 16

Karl Marx Spaceport

Leningrad, Getov-Rarus Front

From his vantage point in the tower, Senior Sergeant Viktor Reznov stared down the scope of his Mosin-Nagant blaster rifle. Steadying his breathing, he allowed all of his focus to stay downrange, relying on his friend Dimitri to watch his back. He and his spotter had been staying in the spaceport for the past few days with another sniper team, watching for their prey.

Since the fall of the system to Getov forces months ago, the capital city had become nothing but a ruin. It reminded Reznov of Stalingrad, but far worse. It was more like the ancient ruins of the Hellenic Kingdom, with most structures severely damaged and most people were now living underground to survive. There were also rumors that despite the mass shortages of food and supplies, that people were still able to find enough to make meat cakes. No one was sure where the meat and had come from, and no one was curious enough to ask. Some things were better left unanswered.

"Viktor, I think I see someone coming down the lines," Dimitri said, looking through his macrobinoculars. "Second trench line; about thirty meters to the left of the ruined statue."

Moving his rifle toward that direction, he could see the person of interest. "There you are, you fascists pig," he whispered, saying the last two words like a curse. The man they were watching was a Waffen-SS Colonel. A man who was well known for his treatment of the various, untermensch. He knew the results of the man's work all too well. Charred bodies always had a distinct smell.

"Are you sure that it's him, Dimitri?"

"I am positive," he answered. The man was a creature of habit, and loved nothing more than showing off to the people living in the city. "His lackeys carrying his equipment."

Zooming in a little closer with his scope, he observed the men who were following the colonel, and Dimitri was correct. He could see the flamethrower equipment being carried, and several men who were no doubt bodyguards. "You're right. He even has the blue scarf that the survivor described."

The survivor was in fact a nine year old boy. He had been pulled to the side and forced to watch as the colonel burned his entire family and others who had been living in the basement they had called home for the past few years. He had even had the gall to laugh as he did so, saying how he loved the smell of burning filth.

"Is it time?" Dimitri asked.

"Steady, Comrade," Reznov said calmly. Slowing his breathing, he waited for the Hitlerite and his followers to turn the bend and begin heading way from the remains of the spaceport. He's arrogant. Well, we shall show him what happens when it gets the better of you. Taking one last breath, he exhaled slowly, gently squeezing the trigger until he felt the kick of the blaster. He saw the bolt of energy travel for only a second, but he soon saw the result of his work.

Looking though his scope, Reznov watched as the fuel tank for the flamethrower ruptured, the men all around it ducking at the sound of the blaster fire, but soon realized that there was something far more immediate and dangerous in their midst. Before any of them could take more than a few steps, the tank exploded, engulfing everyone close enough in a fireball. He smiled as he could see the bodies of the fascist colonel and the men who had been with them.

Receiving a pat on the back from Dimitri, he turned and said, "One less fascists pig to worry about now, eh Dimitri?"

His friend smiled. "Indeed, Comrade. Soon we will make our way to Berlin, and we shall raise our flag over the Reichstag."

"First, we have to survive this, Dimitri," Reznov said, gathering up his gear, with Dimitri doing the same. "It is still a long a perilous journey. Remember what I taught you in Stalingrad. Don't get too eager or overconfident. You'll live far longer if you aren't"

No sooner were the words out of his mouth when a familiar whistle could be heart in the wind. "Artillery!" Dimitri yelled as the both of them ducked behind what cover they could find to shield them for however long the barrage was going to last.

"You've really scared them," Comrade," Dimitri said. "They are using artillery to try and kill us."

"The Hitlerites always uses artillery," Reznov explained, a grin on the man's hard face. "They don't have many snipers to match us, and none that can match me.

Dimiti laughed at the joke as the both of them huddled at the barrage continued for several minutes. Eventually, the attack ended and the two of them made their way out of the spaceport. By the time that Getov forces entered the structure, the snipers who had been in there were long gone, and were once again embarrassed that a bunch of untermensch had gotten the better of them again.

...

Zhukov stood on the bridge of his command vessel, watching the overview of the battle from outside the "designated" combat zone in the Leningrad System. However, just because he was outside of it, didn't mean that he was safe. The task force of ten vessels that were assigned to protect him were a testament to that. From where he was, he could lead the various forces of the Rarus Federation.

Off in the distance, he could see the flashes and explosions as the battle for the system continued. The fighting was only a day old, and he had already suffered heavy casualties. Prior to the fighting, the occupying Getov forces were made up of two heavy cruiser groups numbering over forty vessels, one of which belonging to the Waffen-SS, and the ground occupation force, made up of a infantry division and an SS tank division.

His forces had been able to breach the orbital defenses and land on the planet, however, the Getov Navy was far from defeated, and had launched an immediate counter attack, which was what he was dealing with at this time.

"General, Getov forces are attempting to cut off the invasion corridor," one of his staff officers said, handing Zhukov his a datapad. Zhukov took it and read over the details as the officer continued. "Commander Tretyakov is being hit from both sides and is requesting to pull back."

Looking back at the screen. Zhukov considered his options. He could order his forces to hold the line, or have them pull back. Either way, there was a good chance of the forces on the surface having to fight on their own for a while. "Order the Katushka Cruisers to fire and full barrage at the SS task force." They were far more fanatical and needed to be brought to heel. "Order Tretyakov to begin a fighting withdrawal away from the planet. The Katushka's will cover them. We'll make them pay for every kilometer they advance."

The orders were issued, and Zhukov watched as his men fulfilled their assigned tasks. The squadron of rocket cruisers unleashed wave after wave of projectiles at both Getov formations. The Waffen-SS were being extremely aggressive and pushing far faster than their regular military counterpart when they saw the Rarus forces pulling back. It wasn't until it was too late that he noticed the rockets as they detonated. While the larger ships would survive the initial bombardment, the smaller support vessels began to vanish from the tactical screens.

"Damage?"

"Five frigates and three destroyers destroyed," another officer reported. "Other support vessels showing various states of damage. Cruisers have suffered minor damage, and have slowed their advance. Our forces are pulling away to regroup."

"Good. Send another barrage, but focus it on the other task force. We can't let them think we have forgotten about them."

Another barrage was unleashed, this time toward the naval vessels. While the damage wasn't as severe as those that had been inflicted on the SS formation, their advance was still slowed to a crawl. This routine would continue for the next two, as either task force attempted to advance, a barrage would be followed until the target slowed.

"SS task force advancing again. Second task force is following them."

"Fire another barrage," his adjutant ordered.

Zhukov frowned. He figured that the Getov forces would fall back and regroup, but instead, they kept pushing to try and make a breakthrough. Once again, the barrage was fired and the capital ships took the brunt of the attack, protecting the smaller vessels. "Have our forces regrouped?"

"They have, General."

"When the barrage ends, I want a counter attack on the Hitlerites. We'll smash them until there is nothing left," he ordered. On the main screen, he watched the status as the rockets detonated on both formations. However, instead of them stopping, they continued to move forward. Zhukov frowned. "Is the barrage not as effective as before?"

"No, General. They are continuing to push through despite losses. They've lost one of their heavy cruisers and are still coming."

Looking over the tactical display, he could see dozens of missiles being fired, creating a layer of destruction across their approach. "They really are foolish," he said to himself. "Continue the barrage. And send our reserves in to break them when they try to get through."

Over fifty vessels of various classes moved forward to stop the Getov advance. On the screen he watched as the transponders of ship flashed from green, to yellow, and then to red, eventually vanishing. He could see the flashes from the explosions, and the constant stream of communications from the command ship to their respective destinations. It was all almost overwhelming. However, Zhukov was used to the weight of command, and while there were many things that were different since coming to this galaxy, the core was the same as it always was in war. And in this war, he had every intention of his forces marching into Berlin and this time, he would make it a priority to capture Hitler alive and parade him through the streets. How ironic it would be, for Hitler to have to commit suicide again.

"General, the Getov fleet isn't stopping!" an officer said, fear beginning to creep into his voice.

"What do you mean they aren't stopping? Didn't their thrust get cut off?" Zhukov demanded. They should have stopped and attempted to pull away.

"They were, but it's mostly Waffen-SS that made it through," the he explained. "They are moving and full speed!"

Thinking quickly, Zhukov tried to think of some reason why this was happening when it suddenly hit him like a lightning bolt. "Where's their course taking them?"

There were several seconds of frantic work and they tried to extrapolate the information from the stream that was coming in from the battle, thankfully, he only had to wait a few more heartbeats before he received the answer. "They're heading straight toward us," one of the staff officer answered, his voice shaky with fear. "Fifteen vessels total, with half of them cruisers. ETA: ten minutes."

"Can our reserves stop them?" Captain Yudin, commanding officer of the command ship, asked.

"No. They are out of position when they cut into their advance, and they would risk exposing themselves to the remaining fascists. All they could send are fighters and they don't have enough punch to take out a capital ship."

"Send our escorts forward," Zhukov commanded, "and get us out of here right now! What about the Katushkas?"

"They've expended all of their munitions," another officer reported

Zhukov muttered a curse. The situation was untenable. Staying would only result in his death, but retreating would at least allow him to escape. "Send a message to the fleet that I will be withdrawing to ensure my safety, and that I will return shortly." He turned toward another officer. "Begin plotting a jump to lightspeed."

As the officers began their task, Captain Yubin said, "Computer is beginning calculations. Our escort commander says that he will buy us time for us to escape. ETA is—"

"Captain, we're caught in a gravity well!" the navigator reported.

Gravity well? Zhukov though. We're nowhere near a planet. Unless…

"Where is its center located?" the ship commander asked.

"Scanning the area," the sensor officer reported. "The computer places it in front of the Getov task force. I'm picking up multiple gravity projectors. It has to be gravity mines."

"They're trying to keep us from escaping," Yubin concluded. "Full power to engines and bring us about." He turned toward the navigator. "Can we exit the wells in time before the Hitlerites reach us?"

The man did some calculations before he turned and shook his head, answering, "Even if we pushed the reactor and engines past the recommended range, we would still be caught before we could exit the wells."

"Incoming transmission from the Getov flagship," the comm officer reported. "Audio only, but it's being transmitted to the entire system."

"On speakers," the captain ordered.

"To General Zhukov of the Rarus Federation," a cool voice over the speakers said. "I just wanted to let you know that you would not escape this battle alive. By now you know that you are trapped in several overlapping gravity wells. This is thanks to our gravity mines that he have deployed ahead of us, and while you may try to outrun, you will not escape." A chuckle was heard. "Rest assured, I may die, but I will be damned if I don't take as many of you untermensch with me! And I will start with General Zhukov!"

"His forces are firing at our escorts," the sensor operator reported. "They won't last long against them, Captain. At most they'll…" He paused in mid-sentence. "Sir, the Katushka cruisers are approaching the Getov fleet and flank speed."

"Get that battery commander onscreen now!" Zhukov ordered quickly, wondering just what the commander was thinking.

After a few seconds, the face of a middle-aged man was before him. "Captain Lyagushkin reporting, Comrade General Zhukov."

"Captain, I demand to know what you are doing."

A tight smile came to the man's face. "Comrade, myself and everyone here knows that you will not be able to escape the fascists before they overtake you. What is left for us to do, but to ensure that they are not successful?" He paused and took a deep breath. "What I intend to do is destroy those ships. We may be out of rockets, but we still have one more weapon: our ships."

"You intend to ram them?"

"Yes, Comrade General," Lyagushkin said with a smile. "I intend to take as many of those fascist pigs as possible with me. Just have your escorts keep them busy for my men and I to get close enough."

Zhukov was silent for a moment, until he stood up strait and saluted. "Good luck, Comrade. It was an honor to have you as part of my command."

"It was an honor to serve, Comrade," Lyagushkin replied with a salute.

On the tactical display, the escorts that had been protecting Zhukov's command vessels quickly approached the Getov task force. While outnumbered and outgunned, they tried to use their speed to their advantage. Quickly approaching and firing their turbolasers and torpedoes at the Getov ships, they would pull out just as fast before their targets could react. It wasn't as successful as anyone on the bridge had hoped, especially when it cost of three vessels not surviving attack runs, but it did prove to be a good enough distraction. By the time the SS commander realized what was about to happen, it was too late. The Katushka cruisers were firing what weapons they had and approaching at flank speed. The Getov ships tried to move out of the Rarus vessel's paths, but were too close.

Through the viewport the bridge everyone could see as one by one, the Katushka's crashed against the Getov vessels, the hulls collapsing against from the sheer force behind them. Each ship exploding in a brilliant fireball that engulfed the space around them. One after another, the resulting explosions would push the structural integrity of the surrounding vessels to the limit until there was nothing left but the smoldering hulks of Rarus and Getov vessels.

The bridge was silent, except for the status message that were coming in. The first to speak was the comm officer. "Incoming transmission. It's from the Getov fleet commander. He's… requesting that we accept his surrender."

"Surrender?" Zhukov said, in mind surprise.

"It's the gravity wells, General," Captain Yubin explained. "They are stuck in the same gravity well as we are. They won't be able to escape it soon enough before they are destroyed."

Considering this, Zhukov's first thought was to destroy the whole task force, but then he remembered just how badly the Rarus federation needed equipment, especially starships. It was a few more heartbeats before he answered, "Tell the Getov commander that we accept his surrender."


Year 14, Month 05, Day 17

American Transport Craft C-47 210006

Hyperspace

Looking out of the small viewport, 2nd Lieutenant Richard "Dick" Winters watched as the vortex of hyperspace passed. It was hypnotic in a way, like you could get lost in it if you stared at it too long. In the hold of the transport, it was quiet. The only sounds he could hear were those of the engines and when the men who were in it moved.

Turning to look at them, Winters watched as William Guarnere held a rosary, another appeared to be dozing, and another was asking a squadmate for a light for the cigarette that he held in his mouth. Sitting across from him, another was pulling at the straps, a nervous look on his face as he tried to keep his mind busy and not think about the inevitable hell that they would be entering. The man saw Winters looking at him and stopped suddenly, as if embarrassed that he was caught.

Winters game him a small reassuring smile and turned back to looking outside. He thought about the other men who would be taking part in this. He thought about the men he had trained with for the past few years for this very moment. The drill instructor yelling at him in basic, the six mile run up and down Currahee, and of course, him.

Captain Sobel, an excellent instructor, but in his personal opinion, a man not suited for combat. He got lost easily, was unable to adapt to changing situations, and petty when it came to his image at times. The attempt to have him court martialed had failed and now he was back in command of second platoon.

Looking back at his men, he could see Eugene "Doc" Roe smoking a cigarette, one tapping his fingers to keep himself calm, and Warren Muck planning with his cricket clicker.

"Exiting hyperspace in sixty seconds," the PA system announced.

Everyone sat up straighter and shifted in their seats. Winters fastened the straps on his helmet and mask as everyone did the same. Standing up, he said in a commanding voice, "Get ready! Stand up!" Everyone in the hold stood, getting in position as they were making themselves ready for the jump.

"Equipment Check!" Winters commanded. The other paratroopers checked each other equipment, from their packs to the harnesses that help them to their comrade's backs and the masks they wore.

"Sound off on equipment check!" Everyone in the hold reported that the other's equipment was good and ready for action.

Outside, hyperspace vanished as the starlines became stars, and space outside was filled with explosions. Bolts from laser cannons wizzed by the ship as the system's defenses did their best to blow the entire fleet away. The vessel banked to the left in an attempting to avoid laser battery fire. Several of the men fell in that direction, but were able to right themselves after a few seconds.

Looking out the viewport, Winters watched as a transport broke in two from an explosion, the cargo hold opening up and spilling out its contents, and only a short distance away, the planet could be seen. All they had to do was hope that the B-17 and B-24 bombers that were hitting the system would be enough to keep the Krauts occupied.

"Jesus Christ! Let's get the hell out of here!" Guarnere cried out.

"We're not over the jump site yet!" Winters countered. The transport baked again, and everyone was pushed forward as the transport increased its speed.

The C-47 bucked as it was hit, and sparks flew from a small panel that exploded. Small pieces of debris flew in every direction and one of the men fell to the ground. "I'm hit!" he shouted, gripping the side of his abdomen.

Doc ran over to the private and looked him over. Pulling away his jacket, he got a closer look at the wound. "It's not bad," he said to the private in a calming and reassuring voice. "I'm going to give you something for the pain and you'll be heading back to Albion."

"But what about you guys?" he asked as Doc injected him.

Looking back at him, Winters said, "We'll be fine. You'll rejoin us as soon as your recovered." Taking a quick glance, they could see that they were over the planet.

"Entering planet's atmosphere," the C-47 captain announced.

The transport bounced again, this time violently. Lieutenant Winters went to one of the consoles and looked for a status report. They were in the upper atmosphere. Higher than they were supposed to be, but well within the packs capabilities. Glancing again through the viewport, he watched as another C-47 burst into flames, the cargo hold bursting open and the flaming bodies of fellow paratroopers fell to the surface. He wanted to feel something; anything. Fear, anger, sadness were things that he should be feeling but he didn't. All that he did feel was the need to get his men onto the DZ alive.

The ship shook again, but this time, the light by the door turned green. Hitting the switch, the hatch opened up and the hold was filled with cold and as the wind blew in. "Let's go!" he yelled, and leaped out of the craft.

After that, training kicked in. He allowed himself to freefall for few hundred meters. After the altimeter reached the appropriate distance from the ground. Pressing a button in his gloves, the jetpack ignited and slowed his descent. Looking around for where to land, he found the wreck of a C-47 and brought himself down near it.

When Winters landed, he reached for his Garand, but only to realize that it had fallen off in the jump. Silently chastising himself, he looked around to try and see if there was anything that he could do. In front of him, another airborne soldier landed less gracefully than he did, letting out a curse as he landed. "I don't think that's the proper sigh/countersign, trooper. I say Flash, you say Thunder."

"Yes, sir," the man said, removing excess equipment. "Thunder, sir."

"Where's the rest of your equipment?" Winters looked the man over.

"Fell off when we jumped, sir. Lost pretty much everything except my Thompson."

Nodding, Winters replied, "Everyone else has to be behind those trees." He pointed to a small grouping of them. "Stay low, and follow me." They had taken no more than a dozen steps when fire starting to come their way. The two of them took off in the opposite direction, into a dense set of woods. It was the middle of the night, and it was difficult to see, but the lasers from Getov batters were able to provide enough light to give them a general idea of what was in front of them.

The two of them spent the next couple of hours walking carefully through the forest. As they made their way they managed to encounter several more men of their battalion, and those who belonged to different divisions. It was after their first group of fellow American soldiers they encountered that they managed to figure out where they were. They were several kilometers away from their target, and soon began the long trek toward their objective. As the night continued through the night, they encountered more men and they soon had a large squad, all of them wanting to avoid direct contact with the enemy until they could regroup with Command.

When morning came, Lieutenant Winters and his men approached a farmhouse that was partially destroyed and the remains of two paratroopers, along with five Getov soldiers and a wrecked cargo speeder. Winters motioned for two of the men to move forward and scout the area. As the two men cautiously approached, they scanned the area and saw no one. Motioning for the rest to approach, they walked carefully to the ruined structure.

Walking up to one of the bodies, Winters put the Getov rifle, that he had taken from a dead soldier in the night, down and grabbed the Garand that his comrade would no longer be needing. He then started to go through any other supplies that the man might have had. He won't need it anymore, Winters thought, trying to keep the idea that he was pilfering through a dead man's belongings. He would want me to use what I could.

As the other men of the squad were looking over the other bodies, they heard a distinctive sound in the distance. A bright flash was soon seen in the distance and everyone gripped their weapon a little tighter.

"It's the Navy," Sergeant Lipton said, placing a spare powerpack into his belt.

"The invasion has begun," Winters said finally, standing up. "Let's go, people."


Year 14, Month 05, Day 17

Pas-de-Calais, Calais Star System

Getov-occupied Floevis

General George S. Patton never felt more alive than at this moment. On Earth, he had faced down Mexican bandits, fought in the trenches of France, and wiped an army of evil off the face of the Earth. He had advanced farther, liberated more territory, and captured more prisoners in less time than any army in military history. Since his "rebirth", he was looking forward to commanding an army again, and he had done so with fervor. Commanding forces in Sicily had allowed him to brush-up on his tactics and learn new methods, and avoid some of the more embarrassing moments of his career. Now, leading the greatest army in the galaxy, against an army that would make the damn Nazis and Russians seem like nothing.

Standing in his speeder, with macrobinoculars held up, Patton watched as a tank regiment with infantry support moved through a trench line that the Getov had tried to make a stand at. As the tanks advanced, they fired their main cannons and provided cover for their infantry support as they moved into the trenches. The different colored blaster bolts showing just how the fighting was going. The Getov orange bolts were steadily fading back as the red American bolts continued to fire. Soon the Shermans began to move forward, firing their cannons at any defensive structure that looked like it could pose a threat. He didn't want to lose the initiative, and pushed his men to keep going. This planet was the headquarters for the entire defense of "western" Europa, and he would allow for the damn Nazis to regain any breathing room. He intended to push them all the way to Berlin.

"Hobart. what's the latest reports we have?" he asked, turning toward his friend.

Looking through his datapad, he read off, "There is still heavy fighting in the orbital facilities, General. The defenders are using pretty much every trick they can think of to keep us from taking it. We were fortunate to have taken control of the major systems, so they won't be able to detonate the station. We have control of about a quarter of the station's facilities, but we can expect that it will be another twenty-four hours before we have that station under our control. That's not including the repairs that would have to be made"

"That's the Navy and Army Engineer's job. What about here on the surface?"

"It's going a little better, George," he answered. "Most of the rockettroops have been scattered all across the planet since the jump into the system last night, and we still can't establish contact with half of them with jammers active all over the planet though it seems to have worked in our favor. The Getov military doesn't seem to know where we are concentrating and have themselves out all over the planet. By the time they pull themselves together, we'll have too much of a foothold. We're already taken several of our objectives and are an hour ahead of schedule."

Patton beamed at the sound of that. "Looks like our deception worked. There's less than half of what was supposed to be here." Take that you bastard! You've been fooled again.

There was a loud roar of engines close by, and they both looked up to see an LST landing on the surface of the planet. It was the largest vessel they had that could land in the spaceport, and carried a full company with supporting equipment, which was why it was being escorted by a flight of Spitfires. When the transport landed, the front hatch opened and vehicles and personnel began to exit the vessel. "There are still the hypervelocity guns that are here," Hobart said, bring Patton's attention to the task at hand. "They're causing problems for the invasion fleet, not to mention the orbital stations."

Patton snorted. "You mean the same cannons that accidentally shot down their own defense stations?" The incident he was talking about had happened when the invasion had just started. The Getov commanders had not expected the Allies to be sending another invasion force at a place that the Fuhrer had promised not to be a target. Instead, they were facing hundreds of allied vessels. One of the commanders of the hypervelocity guns must have panicked or made a mistake, because his first salvo hit one of the orbital defense stations and opened a small hole in the planetary perimeter. That had caused all sorts problems in the defense of the planet, and while those defenses were mighty, the reduction of personnel to stop the invasion in Brittany had been favorable for the Allies.

Seeing the concerned look on his friend's face, Patton looked down at the chart of the battlefield. Moving the display he brought up a specific location. "Send a wing of bombers to hit this grid location," he said. "It was the last estimated location for one of their guns, and I wont them with a fighter escort. Their Messerschmitts are still too good at hitting our bombers." He would have normally would have preferred a orbital bombardment, but the planetary shield in that area was still active and would hold off any bombardment for weeks.

As the orders were relayed, Patton looked around him and watched as tanks, APCs, jeeps, and all other types of vehicles and aircraft were moving around him. Feeling anxious, he leaned forward at his driver. "Take us forward. I want to get closer to the action."

Bringing the engines up from idle, the driver nodded and pressed the accelerator, following the lines of men as they advanced. The fighting was far from over, and the sounds of battle could be heard near-by.

Patton placed a hand on one of his Colt blaster pistols, always ready to draw it if the Krauts got any ideas. His speeder had joined a formation of nine tanks with infantry as they moved cautiously through the countryside. In the distance, a small town could be seen; then a faint could be heard in the distance. It gradually became louder and it turned into a whistling.

"Incoming!" men shouted all around him and everyone scattered, diving for cover. Vehicles scattered and men dived into the ditches that were lining the road.

Patton gripped his helmet and squatted down behind the armored plating of his speeder. As the artillery exploded around them, he had memories of being in the trenches of France, where the bombardments would sometimes last for hours. He could feel a growing anger within him. They think they can get me? Well, I'll show them. They never got me on Earth, and I won't let them get me either. When the artillery stopped follow, Patton stood up, blaster drawn, to see something that he was familiar with: death, destruction, and everything in between.

"Stuka!" someone yelled pointing in the direction that they were flying. Four of the Getov strike craft were racing toward them as high speed, the siren wailing as it came closer.

Reacting quickly, Patton got behind the M2 Browning Heavy Repeating Blaster and fired at the incoming craft. His barrage was soon joined by others, and the sky was soon filled with hundreds of red bolts. As the Stukas flew over head, they dropped their payload and streaked away. One of the bombs landed a dozen meters away from them, while another went off behind the formation. The third landed at the front, destroying two tanks and killing over a dozen soldiers who were too slow to dive for cover. The last one went down in a ball of flame as Patton's M2 hit one of its engine intakes. The craft attempted to pull away but only managed to pull off to one side and crash into the ground. "Take that you Jerry bastard!"

"George, are you alright?" General Gay asked, looking at him.

George looked back at his friend, a smile on his face as he took a deep breath. "Never better, Hobart. Never better." He stopped to look around him and surveyed the damage. "Radio one of the medical station. Tell them that we have wounded."

As Hobart began contacting HQ, Patton looked over in the direction that the Stukas were heading. You may have hit us, but I'll make damn sure that we hit you harder.


Year 14, Month 05, Day 17

General Staff Headquarters, Berlin

Getov Prime, the Greater Getov Reich.

Hitler was furious. He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream, and most importantly, he wanted to blame someone for the fiasco that was happening all around him. "Mein Fuhrer, we have to pull out of the Brittany System," General Jodl said. "We have to do it right now, or the Allies will take Calais and it would put then on our doorstep."

"I know that!" Hitler all but shouted. He took a deep breath and allowed himself to calm down some. "How many ships to the Allies have in the Calais System?"

"Too many," Admiral Donitz answered. "Last estimates put it around five hundred."

"They hit us where we were weakest," Canaris said. "All of the soldiers and ships that we pulled from that system to retake Brittany, and now they are about to take it away from us." He paused, looking around at everyone in the room before speaking reluctantly. "We need to pull back. Shorten our supply lines and let them come to us."

"We can't," Heydrich said firmly. "We can't give up properly conquered ground to the untermensch led Allies. To do so would make them think that we are going to lose."

"And what would you propose? General Jodl asked, anger slipping into his voice. "Right now, we are experiencing action all along the various fronts." He changed the map to bring up the Europa Region of the Sector and pointed. "Look! We have two invasions from Albion, the Norian Front is beginning to heat up, and the Rarus Federation has begun an offensive into the Leningrad System. The last reports we had there is that the Fleet in orbit surrendered, leaving the Army in the ground stranded."

"They'll take plenty of untermensch with them," Heydrich said proudly. "They will bring glory to the Reich."

"What use is glory when it can't be used to after the man dies?" he asked. "That will be the second army that we will lose in that area. Once in Stalingrad and now Leningrad, and might I remind everyone here, that it was the Teutonic Knights and Waffen-SS who were in command of that theater. We are going to lose—"

The General's sentence was cut short as the man gasped for air. Grasping for whatever was choking him, everyone looking at Grand Master Heydrich, his hand in the air and holding his thumb and forefinger together. "Don't you dare mock the Order," he said, venom seething from his voice. "We are far more powerful than anything that you have in your arsenal."

"Enough!" Hitler barked. "Release him immediately, or I will have you removed from this room."

Reluctantly, the former Jedi released the general. "Yes, Mein Fuhrer. Apologies."

"What have our forces in Brittany inflicted on the Allies?"

"According to the last progress reports, they crippled several of the Republic cruisers and managed to destroy half of the transports," Donitz answered. "We lost the most of the raiders that we sent into that battle, though. Ground forces seemed to have been hit hard, however, our forces on the planet can be considered a loss. From what reports we have received from the surface, all that remains is a corp of infantry with support vehicles."

Hitler grimaced. He wanted to blame someone, anyone, for what was happening. He didn't know how things could be different from what he remembered. Normandy was supposed to be the invasion, not both it and Calais… Something needed to be done. "What do we have available to relieve Calais?"

Almost everyone in the room looked at each other, a nervous look on their faces. "We have our Home Guard, Mein Fuhrer, and there are some Waffen-SS formations within our territories. If we don't want to leave the Fatherland exposed, we would have to pull out of the other theaters." Jodl said finally.

"That cannot be allowed," Heydrich protested. "Those Waffen-SS forces are there to protect—"

"Shut the hell up, Heydrich!" the Fuhrer shouted. He then pointed at the Knight. "It's because of your visions that we are in this situation to begin with. Your visions that you interpreted as the Allies going after Brittany only. Well, you were wrong and I will not forget it." The man tried to protest but was cut off almost immediately. "I want you out now, and if you refuse, I will have you removed by force, and if you try to resist, then I will have you shot. The Allies may have failed in killing you, but I assured you that my men will not. Do I make myself clear?"

The room was deathly quiet. Many of the General Staff officers had been hoping for something like this to happen, however, the timing was not. "That goes for everyone else. Out! Now!" he barked, and as everyone filed out of the room, Hitler saw Grand Master Heudrich give him a glare that could have melted durasteel. He simply returned it and was graced with the man turning away.

"Shit," Hitler said finally and looked over at the holomap of the Europa Region. Where the hell could he get the forces needed to push the Allies out of Floevis? There was still the Home Guard that had been mentioned by Field Marshal Jodl. He had planned on using them to counter the Conspirators when they made their move, but keeping them here was a sure way of forcing them to do it.

He looked along the Rarus Front for a moment and saw that it was relatively quiet, minus the inevitable loss in Leningrad. He sneered again and said another curse. He would have to try and get as many of those forces out of there as possible. He couldn't afford to lose another Army, but he at least had the satisfaction of know that the damn untermensch wouldn't be launching any offensives in the foreseeable future. He would make sure to order the Getov forces on that front to strip and destroy everything that could be useful.

In Noria, there wasn't much happening, but the damn traitors to Mussolini were barely holding their own, and those who had sided with the Allies were beginning raids against what remained of his ally. Something was brewing there, but he couldn't tell what it was, but that was a secondary worry. Looking at Floevis again, he said a line of obscenities at just how things had not gone as planned. As much as he hated to admit it, they were right. They needed to stop the invasion as Calais, or at least delay it enough so that some of the new developments that the scientists have been working on could become available.

Recall the fleet that we sent to Brittany and have them strike at Calais, he though. I'll have some the Home Guard sent to try and reinforce Calais and the surrounding systems. None of this was supposed to happen though. Two invasions was not what had happened on Earth, but here he was dealing with them.

Damn Heydrich. His so-called visions of the future had been wrong. I should never have put so much faith in their abilities, he thought, remembering Model's warning about visions and now he was seeing the wisdom of the Field Marshal's words. The man was now on his way back to his command on the Rarus Front, and was confident he would be able to hold his own against them. Now, if he could only find someone to stop the Allies in Calais.

Hitler hit a couple of keys and the view changed to showing the various facilities that were scattered all over the Reich. He could at least be proud that the Final Solution was going according to schedule. All of the undesirables that had plagued the people of Getov and Europa as a whole, from the Jews to the aliens, were going to be disposed of. He was going to going to purify this region, just how he did on Earth, but he had every intention of living to see it.

He smiled and reached into his pocket. Inside of it was a datacard with some very important news. SS-Obergruppenführer von Ribbentrop had informed him that the Confederacy was gathering a fleet to send to the Sector and it would arrive sometime next month. He hadn't told the General Staff of this development, and he wasn't going to until he was ready to do so. He was going to let the generals sweat a little. All the Reich had to do was hold out until then, and they could retake the initiative. First thing would be to remove Albion, the thorn they had been in Getov's side for years, then ensure that the Rarus Federation couldn't go on the offensive.

Another month, and we will begin our final push for victory. They just needed to hold off and he had to make sure that there would be Conspiracy against him. He was taking steps that would ruin chances of them succeeding. The SS was observing certain individuals of interest, and the Teutonic Knights were on his security detail. They would protect him from any attempts on his life. Just one more month.