Flughafen Hamburg
Behind the Stadtpark Planetarium was a soccer field. The three vertibirds that had taken part in the assault on the Planetarium had parked there once the area was secure, and in the three days since the battle to take the Planetarium dozens of Final Order Fieldmen, mechanics, and officers had arrived to plan the assault on the Hamburg Airport.
"That zweihander was an Honest-to-God antique. 1500's at least" Walter said, and Hans looked up from his lunch. One of the Order's vertibirds was spinning up, just outside the mess tent. Hans waited for it to lift off into the noon sky and take off back towards the Hamburg City Center. He set down his spoon, the image of the Fieldman's body propped up on the sword's blade still in his mind.
"What, did you make it?" Hans asked, and Walter scoffed.
"I can only wish it were still the 1500's. Then all we'd have to worry about is crossbows and trebuchets. But that sword was probably priceless" he said. Hans shook his head.
"And famine, genocides, holy wars, and the Black Death. Doesn't exactly sound like a good time to me, but maybe it would be better than this" Hans said. He continued eating his lunch, a rather decent soup prepared by one of the Order's cooks. Walter had already finished his and was just sitting at the table, looking out at the ersatz helicopter pads. The vertibirds had been hardly damaged during the fight for the Planetarium, and were just getting looked over and restocked on ammo and provisions.
"Jaeger said the airport was a 'bandit kingdom'? Jesus. Good thing we've got those helicopters and the halftracks, huh? Should make things a lot easier for us all" Walter said, and Hans nodded.
"So long as they don't have any rocket launchers there."
Walter scoffed. "That freak got lucky when he hit that halftrack. I doubt he or any bandit would be able to hit one of those vertibirds" he said. Hans finished eating the last of his soup and wiped his hands on a rag. He pushed the bowl aside and rested one of his arms on the table.
"Makes me wonder just what the Order's going to use the airport for. I can't imagine there's any planes there that can still fly, and these vertibirds ought to be enough for getting around and shit. It's going to be a tough fight, I'm sure" Hans said. He looked over his shoulder at the sound of approaching footsteps; Klara Edmund, joining them after spending the morning visiting the supply stands.
"Hello, gentlemen" she said as she sat. "I think we're all set for the attack on the airport, at least when it comes to supplies. The Order scavenged quite a bit from those mutants. Plenty of ammo for the two of you, plus medical supplies. If one of us doesn't have something they need, then one of the Fieldmen will."
Hans nodded. "Glad to hear it." Klara set her pack on the bench and started rummaging through it for supplies. Three boxes of 8mm Mauser for both him and Walter, plus a box of shotshells for the Drilling and even five 9.3mm rounds for the Drilling's rifle barrel. Over a hundred rounds of 9mm FMJ rounds and three grenades, plus assorted medical supplies and rations.
"Sweet lord, girl, you've really stocked us up" Walter said as he topped up his Madsen's magazines. Klara just smiled and set her pack aside, her smile less friendly and more worried.
"It's going to be bad, if the Fieldmen can be believed. I heard some of them say their scouts have already taken a look at the airport, and it's an absolute hive of activity. They've got the terminal fortified something awful, snipers in the building's tall tower, and little encampments and machine gun positions in the parking lot. The vertibirds and halftracks will help get us all in, but actually taking it's going to be a lot harder" Klara said.
The vertibird that had left earlier returned, hovering over the field for a few moments before it slowly descended, the tents nearby flapping and whipping in the wind. The vehicle came to a stop and the engines began to power down, their whine deepening until the rotors stopped turning. Hans turned back to Klara and Walter and they looked at him.
"We'll get through it. We've been through worse, been through tougher, and come through it on top."
"Yes, the two of you. I was councilor for Pariser Platz station for five years. Before that I was a farmer's daughter, on one of those little farms in the countryside. I'm hardly a battle-hardened mercenary" Klara said, and Walter waved his hand.
"You'll be just fine. You've got us with you." Klara rolled her eyes.
Hans stood, brushed himself off, and stepped back from the table. "Let's go see what's what. I want to know when the assault's taking place." The other two stood and followed him out from under the mess tent and into the warmth of the bright morning sun. The makeshift base was abuzz with activity, with people stepping past each other everywhere one looked. Hans and the others made their way past all the tents and back to the Planetarium, where the command post had been established.
The guards outside the rear entrance, FG-42's in hand, let them in and closed the doors behind them. The projector in the floor had been left in place, still on and beaming up its display, though the audio track had been shut off or muted. Around the projector were two semi-circular tables, pressed together, a team of officers standing around it discussing matters.
Among them was a familiar face. Oberfahnrich Paul March. He noticed Hans and the others, smiled, and waved them over. "Sergeant, it's good to see you again" Hans said, and Paul nodded. "What are you doing here? Aren't you just a border guard?"
Paul's smile widened. "Hamburg's borders are going to be expanding soon, no? Ah, I was asked if I wanted to join the Fieldmen on this mission. Planning, mostly. Here, take a look at this," he said, and walked over to a map that had been laid out on the table. "Hamburg City Center, the seat of the Final Order in this area. Around it, unclaimed ruins. Director Jaeger asked me to see about marking out a route that connects the City Center with the Stadtpark and the Flughafen. A difficult matter, but not insurmountable."
"So you won't be joining us? Too bad. I quite liked the idea of having another teammate on board" Walter said, and Paul nodded.
"Storming the airport will be left to people like you, Pariser Team. Great things are happening, both here and elsewhere in Germany. All goes well, maybe we'll all be a part of those things" Paul said. He stepped back from the table, his hand idly resting on his holster. "Higher ups want the attack to take place in the morning, right around dawn. Give the pilots enough light to see by while still maintaining some darkness to conceal yourselves in. Plus, it might catch the marauders at the airport while they're still in bed."
Walter scoffed. "Not like bandits keep healthy sleeping hours."
Hans crossed his arms and rubbed his chin. "What kind of great things?"
"Not things they're liable to tell Sergeants like me. All I've heard is rumors. A device discovered in Dresden, files recovered from a Berlin museum, and something the Order found in the Alps" Paul said.
Hans and Walter shared a look. "Some thing they discovered?"
"In the decades before The Bomb hundreds of caves and tunnels were dug into the Alps on the German side. Italy and Switzerland did the same, too, I bet. All sorts of things were stashed down there by the people in the Reichstag. Gold, paintings, weapons, and fuck knows what else. If it were up to me I'd take all the gold and paintings and then collapse all the tunnels. Some of the things buried down there should be remain buried" Walter said.
"What sorts of things?" Klara asked, and the men gave her a look.
"There are things worse than nukes. We learned that at the Genetics Institute. Biological and chemical weapons, genetic experiments, and the results of both. I have to agree with Walter; if there's anything like that in those caves then it should just be buried. Forgotten by history" Hans said.
Paul nodded. "For now, let's just focus on the assault on the airport. I've got some things that I need to take care of, but you're welcome to ask around about the operation and come up with your own plans." With that Paul took off, heading for the back door and the soccer field.
"What do you think he was getting at?" Klara asked, and Hans chewed his lip.
"Remember what we told you about the Rovers?" Hans asked, and Klara nodded. "As much as I don't want to admit it, I think they're not the only abomination cooked up before The Bomb came. Europe was at war for decades before the nukes fell, and if the government was burying stuff besides gold and art under mountains then that tells me two things. One, they were afraid of what they were putting away, and two: they thought they would one day need it."
Klara frowned but said nothing else. Hans adjusted the strap to his G41 and took a look at the map, the Stadtpark and the Flughafen circled in green. Arrows pointing to the terminal, the air traffic control tower, and the far ends of the runways. The Final Order in Hamburg was pouring every resource into the operation, every one of their halftracks and vertibirds on-hand to get troops and supplies into the combat area. The plan seemed to call for halftracks to smash through the fences at the far ends of the runways and rush straight to the terminal, the obvious idea being that the bandits wouldn't expect an assault from behind on open ground. Trouble was, if they responded in time then the teams would be caught on said open ground with nothing to protect them but mobility and the thin armor of the halftracks.
The other half of the plan was basically a copy of the assault to take the Stadtpark. Ground teams would eliminate any threat to the vertibirds, who would then swoop in to drop reinforcements and provide overwatch. The helicopters were proving to be a linchpin to the Order's operations, far as Hans could tell. An excellent strategy, so long as they never came up against anything that could reach up and touch them.
Hans looked up from the table at the officers assembled in the room. They were all bunched up in groups of three or four, discussing this strategy or that tactic. The bulk of the Planetarium was taken up by the main room, as circular as the dome at the top. At either end of the floor were doors. On one side, two doors side by side, leading to the bathrooms. On the other, a pair of double doors leading to the gift shop. It was in there where the main office had been set up. The doors were closed, a group of men inside visible through what little remained of the windows on the doors. What they were talking about, Hans couldn't tell.
He let out a sigh and turned around, and that's when he saw her. Across the room, coming out of the women's bathroom, was Hilda. She looked over to the back door, brushed her hair behind her ear, and began walking over to it. Hans pushed off from the wall and got moving, making a beeline straight for the door. He reached it right before she did, and she huffed in annoyance.
"Excuse you, but- Hans!" she said, and put her hands on her hips, her face brightening.
"Hello, Hilda. I'm glad to see you're finally healthy" he said, and quickly enough Walter and Klara came up. "You look...different, too, somehow."
Hilda shook her head and her red hair fluttered. "I bathed. The clinic actually had running water and a working shower. Hot water, too, it was amazing. I feel great." With all the dirt and grime gone her features could finally be seen. The little freckles on her cheeks, the glitter of her green eyes, the micro scar on the left side of her bottom lip, and the mole under her right eye. Her arms had little freckles and moles scattered across them as well, and her hair had a little luster in it. While nothing could be done for the stains in her clothes they looked like they'd been washed as well, the cotton looking a little stiffer.
"Hey there, little one, good to see you" Walter said, and Hilda nodded.
"I'll take Erma back now, if you don't mind" she said. Klara unslung the SMG and handed it back to her, along with the magazine pouches. Hilda slung the weapon and put her gear back on, making sure everything was in place the way she liked.
"Now what am I supposed to use?" Klara said, and Walter handed her the M30 Drilling. She looked the combination gun over and shrugged, tightening up the bandolier of shotshells that Walter had given her. "I guess I'll find out if this is an upgrade or a downgrade."
"Maybe a sidegrade? Is that even a thing? Hell, you've got two 12-guage barrels and a single rifle barrel. Near and far, you've got it covered" Walter said, and Klara rolled her eyes.
"Yes, well, thank you. I quite liked the Erma, however."
"More than one machine pistol in the country, eh?"
Hans turned back to Hilda, her hands still on her hips. "Learn anything while you were gone?" he asked, and Hilda scoffed.
"You are the ones who were gone. I was stuck in Hamburg by myself, with that asshole of a doctor. He patched me up and all, but he's a prick. He let me go the afternoon the day you three left for the Stadtpark, so for the last three days I kept myself busy by learning how to read. Or trying to. The teachers there are good, I guess, but I think it's gonna take a lot more time than I thought" Hilda said, and Hans nodded.
"We'll get you there."
The double doors to the main office opened and an officer quickly scurried off out the backdoor and towards the airfield, and Hans guessed things would be beginning soon. He turned back to Hilda. "How'd you even get here, anyway?"
"Vertibird." She didn't look very happy about it.
"That bad?"
She licked her lips slowly and swallowed. "That bad. The pilot was great, but... It's awful. Weird. Really uncomfortable. I got here about twenty minutes ago."
Hans realized she'd been on the vertibird he'd seen leave and then come back, and couldn't believe they'd just missed her. "Spent those twenty minutes wandering around, looking for you three, when I realized I had to pee. Looks like the battle for this planetarium was bad."
"Should've seen it. One of the fuckers had a Panzerschreck. Where he found that, and the rockets for it, I'll never know" Walter said, and Hilda gave him a look.
"Isn't that like the Panzerfaust we used at the Genetics Institute?" she said, and seemed to realize something. "Hey, where's the second one?"
"Used it at Happy Liberty Imports. I'm not sure which was worse; taking this place, or that one. And a Panzerschreck is bigger. Much bigger" Hans said, and Hilda nodded, her expression grim.
"Guess the asshole doc was better than all that. I'm glad you're all OK, though. It's nice to be needed, but I think I'd prefer it if you didn't need my medical skills" Hilda said. Hans couldn't argue with that, but he knew things were going to get worse before they got better. Hilda's skills were going to be needed, that was for sure.
Before any more could be said an officer came out of the gift shop and cleared his throat. "Alright team leaders, listen up" he said, and approached the table. "The operation to take the Hamburg airport has been set. Gather around for operational details and strategies... The airport has two major runways, and if you've seen the maps then you know how we're going to use that to our advantage. Our scouts report that the bandits have reinforced some of the fencing near the terminal, but it shouldn't pose a problem to the halftracks. Since taking on the fortified positions at the front of the building would be a death sentence we're going to take a different approach."
The office licked his lips and continued. "Five halftracks, five ground teams. Three are going to smash through the fences by the tarmac and maintenance hangars, and two are going to breach at the end of the runways, one on each. Coming in behind the bandits should catch them by surprise and give us an edge. Ground teams are going to breach the terminal and proceed directly to the air traffic control tower, to eliminate the bandit snipers and machine gunners up there. Once the tower is secure the vertibirds will be clear to drop reinforcements, ferry out wounded, and eliminate enemy positions in the parking lot. From there, you'll all be tasked with clearing the airport's major buildings and installations. Any questions?"
One of the officers raised his hand. "Estimates on resistance?"
"Significant. The airport is one of the largest settlements we've seen, occupied entirely by marauders and bandits. Thieves, murderers, rapists, and sadists. Fieldmen, be sure to follow Directive ES-886 when dealing with enemy captives. Remember, we've got some mercenaries on board with us for this operation. Coordinate with them, but otherwise let them proceed how they choose to. Operation begins tomorrow morning at dawn" the officer said, and reached into a shirt pocket. "Assignments and orders."
The officer handed Hans a sheet of paper, along with several other men and women assembled in the room, and Hans unfolded it and began to read. "Mmm. They've got us one of the halftracks, coming up the western runway. Lot of open ground there, but if the plan goes right then the bandits won't know we're hitting them until it's too late."
"With the four of us finally back together, I'm sure everything will go alright" Walter said, and Hans nodded.
It was an hour before dawn when Hans and the rest of Pariser Team climbed into the halftrack and were driven out of the Stadtpark and through the dark streets of Hamburg. In better days it would've been a twenty minute drive, but with all the rubble and detours they had to take it was closer to 45 minutes. After maneuvering his way through the streets to the west the driver finally brought them to the foot of a small hill, a rusting chain link fence at the top of it, 'Achtung! Verboten!' written on plaques attached to the fence every twenty feet. At the top of the hill were an array of poles and lights, long dead.
The driver shut the engine off and an eerie silence descended on them, punctuated only by the ticking of cooling metal and distant gunfire.
"Well, that was a lot better than riding on a vertibird" Hilda whispered.
"Just wait until we punch through the fence and go racing down that runway at thirty miles an hour, while under fire. You'll be wishing we were on one of those birds then" Walter said, and Hilda rolled her eyes.
In the darkness there was nothing to see, so all they could do was wait. In the distance Hans could hear the thrum of the vertibirds, patrolling near the airport to keep an eye on things. He looked his rifle and ammo pouches over, to make sure everything was in place, and looked at his team. Walter and Klara were staring at the door, but Hilda was facing him. She smiled, and he smiled back.
There was a burst of static from the radio. "Begin." The driver turned the engine over and the vehicle roared to life. With a lurch they began moving forward, picking up speed. They hit the base of the hill, the engine revved up, and they punched through the aging chain-link. They crested the hill and then they were off, hitting runway and gunning straight for the terminal at the other end. Far to the east the sun was beginning to rise, casting a purple hue in the skies.
The staccato of distant gunfire broke Hans from his musings and he sat back down. The initial sporadic pops were quickly devoured by a din of constant automatic fire, from both the bandits and the Fieldmen. They reached a fork in the runway and the driver took them right, across a field, and into the shadows of the hangars and offices at the back of the airport. They cleared the buildings and that's when they came under fire. Walter swore as a number of rounds sharply snapped against the Hanomag's armor, stitching a line from the hood all across the length of the steel sheet over the troop compartment.
What ever gunner had a bead on them changed targets or was killed, for that was the only fire they received. The halftrack roared across another field and then the terminal was looming over them, a storm of gunfire tearing across the entire building. Hans stood and peeked out, watching as the other halftracks zipped back and forth around the tarmac, taking and returning fire. The bandits had clearly been caught by surprise but were mounting a considerable, if sloppy, defense. The boarding tubes had sandbags piled at the ends with bandit gunmen crouching and lying behind them.
The driver took them under one of the boarding tubes and in closer to the terminal, near a door set under an arch. The sign over the door, decaying and partially damaged, read 'Hamburger Fliegerclub.' The halftrack slowed and Hans pushed open the rear hatch. "Let's go!"
The four of them poured out of the vehicle and to the closed door. For the moment they were safe, but with no cover around Hans knew it was just a matter of time. Walter tried the door and it opened without effort, and then they were in the Aviator's Club. The room, once a pricy and classy lounge, had fallen to squalor and decadence. The leather chairs were decaying, there was glass and debris everywhere, a partial skeleton on the bar, and the trophy case had been broken into and ransacked.
"Air control tower's at the other end of the terminal, let's get moving" Hans said, and they moved through the room to the other door. The door was locked, and then it wasn't, and the team moved out into the terminal. The rest of the Fieldmen ground teams had made it into the building, if the thundering roar of gunfire was anything to go by, and Hans felt relieved. They kept low, shuffling down the length of the concourse, keeping to the walls and stone planters for cover.
Hans rushed up to the edge of a dead escalator and peeked around the corner, spotting a group of bandits as they hunkered down behind a bank of phonebooths. He gestured to Hilda and she disappeared around the back of the escalator, and a second later she opened fire on the flank of the bandits. Hans did the same from his position, catching the group in a crossfire and killing the lot of them.
Hans scrambled back from the escalators and back around, and signaled to the team of Final Order Fieldmen across the concourse. They waved the team over and they went, staying low. "The mercs made it, I'm amazed. We're proceeding to the tower, follow us" the lieutenant said, and Hans nodded.
"Right behind you."
The terminal was in complete pandemonium by that time, with the bandits and the Order exchanging fire as they went. Pariser Team rushed past the escalators, past a podium displaying an aging (and stripped) Chryslus, and into the next segment of the terminal's ground floor. Beyond the concourse was an array of shops and markets, converted by the bandits into rooms for sleeping and other stuff people like to do on beds. The fighting there was far more ferocious, with bandits appearing out of back rooms, store rooms, drug rooms, and any other room. Being in such small spaces, however, made them much more vulnerable to explosives, which the Final Order took advantage of.
Hans scrambled into cover behind a steel board still displaying ads for things The Bomb snuffed out twenty years ago; tours for bands, restaurants, airlines, and so on. He leaned out around the right side of the board, the market hall just beyond, and opened fire. The bandits had dragged out mattresses to serve as their cover in the hall, several bodies strewn about. A Fieldman tossed a grenade into a shop and a storm of debris came back out, several body parts included.
"WALTER! HILDA! GO LEFT!" Hans screamed, and they nodded. He kept up the fire, the battle's thunder deafening. Hilda and Walter went left, as directed, and set up by a pair of empty vending machines next to an exit door. Walter dropped to his stomach, the Madsen's bipod deployed, and he let her sing. Hans ducked back to reload and listened to the sound of Walter's machine gun as it drowned out everything else.
The sound of the battle began to die out and a squad of Fieldmen pushed forward, STG's in hand. Other soldiers began to press forward, clearing the rooms as they went. Hans and Klara linked back up with the other two and they rushed down the hall to the terminal's grand central room. Information booths, phone booths, baggage claims, market stalls, and the shattered wing of an airplane littered the area. Hans looked up at the glass ceiling, smashed and cracked all to Hell, and took cover behind a bank of phonebooths.
The rest of the Fieldmen caught up to them and fanned out, covering and maneuvering. Hans was scurrying around the corner when a team of bandits opened up from the second level and everyone scattered. The Fieldmen shifted to return fire and Hans looked up, watching the bandits as they scattered.
"MOVE UP!" someone shouted, and Fieldmen began storming up the steps to the second level. Pariser Team followed them, the battle continuing. None of the bandits could aim that well, but with so many people bunched up on stairwells hits were guaranteed. The Fieldmen returned fire and took cover everywhere they could.
Hans, his breathing deep and deliberate, lined up a charger with the magazine of the G41 and stripped the rounds in. With his rifle back in action he stood, mounted the weapon on the decorative planter he was behind, and fired. The round flew straight across the concourse and into the heart of a bandit. He shifted right just as a bandit came charging out of a bathroom, waving a sword. He pulled the trigger and nothing happened.
"Fuck!" He dropped and ran the rifle's charging handle, which stopped as it tried to return. He glanced down and saw an empty case gummed up in the action, a live round partially chambered. A nasty misfeed. He looked back up as he felt his way through clearing the malfunction, the bandit still charging. But not at him. The chemmed up psycho was rushing headlong right towards Klara, who was facing the other way. "God...damn it" Hans growled as he released the magazine's spring and dumped the rounds. He reached for his holster just as Klara happened to turn around.
**BAAMM!**
Hans swore he could practically feel the concussive blast almost twenty feet away as Klara fired one of the shotgun barrels. The buckshot eviscerated the bandit's midsection and he dropped, the blade glinting in the light as it fell to the ground next to him. Klara turned around, crouch-walked down to the other end of the row of benches she was behind, and again the M30 Drilling thundered harshly in the enclosed space as she shot another bandit.
Hans at last cleared the malfunction, closed up the magazine, and recharged it. He vaulted over the planter and pushed forward, Fieldmen at his side. The upstairs was mostly a wide balustrade, but narrowed down to a wide hallway towards Security and Boarding, if the signs could be believed. The teams reached the other end of the hall and emerged in another wide area, a series of doors on the left and right.
"Tower's over here!" a woman's voice called out to the left, and Hans moved over. Two Fieldmen had stacked up outside the door to the tower, the rest of Pariser Team behind them. Hans nodded, and they nodded back.
"Allow me!" Hilda said, Erma in hand. One of the Fieldmen yanked the door open, using it for cover, and Hilda rushed through. Hans was right behind her and they proceeded up the winding stairwell to the control tower. The marble and stone walls were cracked, mossy, and decaying, but still held as they thundered up the steps. Hilda stopped as they neared the top, pulled two grenades from her pouches, yanked the cords, and tossed. The two of them exploded in quick succession, blasting the top of tower apart, and Hilda rushed up.
The two of them emerged in the tower's control room, far above the Hamburg Airport as the battle continued to rage below. Some of the Final Order Fieldmen had returned to the terminal's main entrance and were firing on the bandits in the parking lot, who were all desperately moving their machine guns around to fire back. The tower was a complete mess, with blood and body parts everywhere. Mounted on a few of the windows were MG-34's and 42's, one of which was severely damaged by the grenades. A few of the bandits up in the tower had been equipped with K98k sniper rifles, and Hans started stripping the weapons of their 8mm Mauser ammo.
"Just like Fernsehturm, right?" he asked, and Hilda rolled her eyes. Hans was crouched down next to the mangled body of a bandit when there was a tremendous, earth-shattering boom from outside. Close. What little glass remaining in the tower's windows was shattered and little bits of plaster, stone, and metal fell from the ceiling, shaken loose from the explosions. Hans stood and rushed to the window, Hilda right at his side. Outside the tower, on the roof of a carpark, was an 88mm Fliegerabwehrkanone, a pair of bandits perched on its seats. The bandits worked the cranks on the side of the gun and it turned, slowly and ominously, its heavy barrel pointed into the morning sky. Hans looked up and saw one of the Order's vertibirds pitching and turning, picking up speed, when the bandits fired again.
**k-BOOOM!**
Hans felt like he'd been kicked in the head by a Rover, the 88's vicious blast kicking the weapon back a few inches. The barrel recoiled hard, a bandit opened the breech, dumped the still-steaming empty shell from the chamber, and was already frantically pushing another one in. Hans looked back up and watched as the third harsh blast sent an 88mm shell screaming into the sky where it slammed into the vertibird and detonated, nearly shredding the vehicle. The right wing was left in tatters, the rotor on fire, and the vehicle pitched forward and to the left as the remaining rotor continue to spin. Shards of glass and steel were shed from the vehicle as the damaged wing fell off in a cloud of smoke and fire and the aircraft spun out of control...
...Straight towards the air traffic control tower.
