RED BANNER-CHAPTER 2
By Red Star
FRENCH PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC
The navies of the Communist powers in the Atlantic had sent the flower of their fleets to the west coast of France, to participate in a massive exercise organized by the Red Navy.
The elder Admirals and captains boasted of their grandchildren, flashing photographs and such. The Vice-Admiral from Portugal proudly showed off his quintuplet descendents. After this, they retired to their quarters, collapsing to the inducements of alcohol and exhaustion.
It was after midnight when the clouds of light appeared in the mountains beyond the town where the navies were based.
Captain John Sanders grinned happily to himself as he put the Prism Tank in gear and spearheaded the Battalion's assault on the base.
"Rock and roll, gentlemen!"
God, it was good to be back in the fight!!
His night vision scope magnified the image of the Soviet Conscripts guarding the building where the Admirals were resting.
Sanders manipulated his Prism gun toward them and fired a beam of white light.
The beam shattered the first Conscript's chest and then split off in six directions to kill off the other members of his group.
"All at once now," declared Sanders as his tanks grouped around the hotel's side.
"Fire!"
The beams of light lit up the sky as they incinerated holes in the building and converged on one spot. The hotel burst into flames and collapsed on the side facing the tanks. The inhabitants leaped out of their windows and ran away.
Sanders then turned around and roared for the docks.
"About time you got here, cap'n," said Lieutenant Ben Carville Jr.
"Why cut off the dick when I can have the head?" said Sanders, laughing all the way.
The Allied tanks sent a burst of deadly light into the hull of the Soviet flagship. Later in life, sailors would recount the story of a beam cleanly knocking off one of their comrade's head.
KREMLIN, MOSCOW, U.S.S.R
The sharp noise of the emergency line awoke Soviet President Malinsky from a rather pleasant dream involving a farm that grew attractive women, and haggling over the price of a twenty-year old blonde with General Vladimir.
Mumbling to himself, he groped for the phone, knocking over the latest Stephen King novel and losing his place. Cursing to himself, he felt for and found the button that activated his reading light. He then reached over and picked up the black telephone that had a red flashing light on it.
"This is President
Malinsky."
"Good morning,
Comrade President,"
Malinsky tugged
himself up against the headboard. "Who is this? Do you have any idea what time
it is?"
"This is Captain
Dalyev, Political Officer of the 7th Fleet, Comrade President."
"The 7th
Fleet? 7th Fleet is in France, what the hell are you doing calling
me this time of night?" asked Malinsky, his thoughts now fully collected and
already forming the words he would snap at the Main Political Directorate.
"Comrade President,
the 7th Fleet was attacked a half-hour ago."
Malinsky snapped to
attention. "What? Who?"
"We don't know,
Comrade President, apparently the aggressors had obtained energy weapons. I'm
afraid they attacked the Admiral's hotel as well; Rear Admiral Levin is dead."
Malinsky was silent
for a moment. "Thank you for informing me, Comrade Captain; the Soviet
Government will look into this. Dah-svee-donya."
He tapped the phone
hang-up with the end of his receiver and then pushed a switch. A tired female
voice rose from the telephone.
"Da?
Who is this?"
"Zofia, this is the
General Secretary,"
Malinsky heard his
chief of staff/bodyguard suddenly stumble out of bed.
"What can I do for
you, Comrade General Secretary?"
"Summon the
Politburo, and tell Marshal Samsonov to bring the Red Navy commander. We'll
meet at my office in forty-five minutes."
"But, Comrade
General Secretary, some of them are out at their dachas, it will take…"
"Forty-five
minutes, Zofia. Until then."
FRANKFURT, GERMANY,
GUNDAM WORLD
"Relena!"
The Vice-Foreign
Minister turned to the familiar sound of the most cheerful of the Gundam
pilots, his long braid whipping behind him as he and Hilde Schebieker ran
toward her. Duo Maxwell's shoes rapped loudly on the tile of the museum which
Relena was visiting.
"Duo! Hilde! How
are you?"
Duo took his black
cap off and grinned.
"Great! Just
thought we'd come down and watch you earthlings move on."
She smiled. Still
the same old Duo. He would never…
"Frau Peacecraft?"
She turned to face
an old man with wild silver hair and a drooping mustache of the same color. His
gray clothes were rumpled and smelled of tobacco, explained by the pipe he
grasped in his right hand. He leaned on a carved wooden cane.
"Vice- Minister
Darilan, sir, I'm sorry, have we met?"
"Nein, nein, minister, but I thought I recognized you.
I am Professor Albert…" as the old man was about to say his last name, he
sighted someone over Relena's shoulder and suddenly seemed to reconsider
something.
"Er…Shtein.
Professor Albert Shtein. I just wanted to shake the hand of the woman who has
brought this world so much peace." A shadow fell over Duo's head, and Shtein
held up a hand in greeting.
"Ah, James! This is
James Hawkins, my good friend. James, this is Relena Peacecraft."
Hawkins stood
ramrod straight. He was tall, with brown hair and green eyes. He was
considerably handsome, and his left hand was in his coat pocket. The young man
smiled and nodded toward her. "Herr
Shtein, I think we had better be
on our way. Berlin just called for you."
Shtein's smile
drooped down.
"Ah, Berlin. Yes,
yes. Very well, Herr Hawkins." He gave a gentlemanly bow to the
bemused Vice-Foreign Minister and then went off with the young man.
Outside, a black
car and uniformed chauffer waited for the two men. After they climbed in, the
man raced to the other side and took off.
Hawkins took his
hand out of his pocket. The hand was metallic, with five thin wires extending
from the wrist to the knuckles of each finger.
"Professor
Einstein, if we are to continue these public visits I must ask you to refrain
from showing yourself to these people."
The Professor
smirked playfully.
"Would you have me
shut up in a little dungeon, Herr General? To do nothing but design weapons
for your armies?"
Hawkins merely sat
silently, flexing his left hand. All the fingers curled into the palm, except
his pinky. He sighed in slight depression. He reached over and put pressure on
two sides of his wrist. The hand fell into his lap. Einstein silently watched
as the General turned over the mechanical hand, playing with the fingers.
"I'll repair it
once we get back," said the Professor softly.
General James
Hawkins, twenty-four year old Supreme Commander of Allied Forces, merely nodded
and stared forward as the car pulled into the airport.
