The Sewers
The sewers, as expected, were dark. What little light there was came from wall-mounted bulbs, the shadows of their cages painted all over the walls. The sewer canal was your typical fare; a narrow channel of water with two cobblestone walkways on either side. Every so often there was a port, pipe, or hatch in the ceiling and along the base of the walls, water dripping from each. The sewers were mostly abandoned, though Hans knew from experience that there were people who made their homes in the pump rooms, control rooms, break rooms, and any other room in the sewer that had a tolerable smell and working lighting.
A distant, guttural roar reminded him there were other things that lived in the sewers as well. "How are we doing on ammo?" he asked, and Walter and Hilda began to check.
"I haven't even fired the Drilling yet, so I'm still all loaded up with those brass shotgun shells we picked up at the DHM station. Still just two mags for the Madsen, sixty rounds total" Walter said.
"Five mags for Erma. Four for the P38. FMJ and hollow point mix. Still got one Panzerfaust and three grenades" Hilda said. Hans nodded and looked over his gear. Eight chargers for the Gewehr 41(M), forty rounds total, and three mags for the P38. He still had that military ammo for the G41 that Walter scavenged at the Brandenburg Gate; he guessed now was as good a time as any to use them. He unloaded the G41 and reloaded with the military ammo. With just twenty rounds of that he had enough for only two magazines, but it'd be enough.
"We're good, then, so long as there are no surprises. No explosives. Getting buried alive in a sewer is not how our lives end" Hans said, and Walter grinned.
"How do they end?"
"In bed, God willing, after a night of sex and scotch." With the team ready to go they began their trek through the sewers. It took Hans all of five minutes to realize getting back to Pariser Platz would be a huge challenge. He rummaged through a hip pouch and produced a compass, glad to see it was still intact after their misadventure in the Genetics Institute. "Pariser Platz is to the west, and this route is going to take us north" he said. "Errr, this canal probably runs to Lohleinstrasse, the nearest main thoroughfare."
"Isn't there a U-Bahn station near there? The Freie Universitat Thielplatz station?" Hilda asked, and Hans nodded.
"We'll switch over if we can. Otherwise we'll take the sewers all the way to..." he trailed off, thinking. "The Deutsches Technikmuseum. From there it's a quick walk over to Wilhelmstrasse and then on to Pariser Platz."
Walter and Hilda nodded and they continued on. The walls of the sewer were covered in algae, moss, and God knows what else, growing unabated from the decades of neglect. There was a narrow door ahead and to the left, and Hans approached. The door was up a couple steps, closed. He turned the knob and the door opened with ease, the room inside some kind of pump room. There were a number of exposed pipes with machines attached to them, empty ports on the machines. A quick check told Hans the machines were for taking water samples, and he could only imagine just how nasty the water really was.
"Hey, our lucky break continues" Walter said, and Hans turned around in time to see Walter pluck a map from a dispenser on the wall. He unfolded the map and the three of them crowded around each other to look it over. "We're still under the Genetics Institute, but you were right about this route taking us north to Lohleinstrasse. There's what looks like a cistern underneath one of the ponds in the Triestpark, and a major canal that runs underneath the Freie Universitat."
"That canal runs all the way to the Botanischer Garten, and then splits off into a dozen smaller canals" Hans said. He pointed at the relevant part of the map. "There, Canal C. It runs all along the entire length of Rheinstrasse and into Schoneberg. From there we can head to the surface and take the B1 all the way back to Pariser Platz."
The team got moving again, keeping a steady pace along the north route. After thirty minutes they reached the junction at Lohleinstrasse and paused, taking in the junction and getting their bearings. The canal sloped into the junction, the cobble pathways splitting off onto a kind of circular balcony. There were two levels to the junction, and they were on the first. Above them a massive pipe curled down over the hole the balcony ran around, not a drop of water in sight. The pipe was supported by cobble arches and a steel catwalk ran around the upper level. There were two doors, one on the left of the room, which was so dented up it was stuck in place. The door to the right was marred only by rust, and opened with a horrible squeal.
"More fucking stairs" Walter said, and Hans had to agree. He was looking forward to getting home and taking some time off. If he'd known what a balls-up the op at the Genetics Institute turned into he'd have turned the job down. They accomplished their goal of thinning Dahlem's Rover herd, technically, but after learning what he had Hans was convinced it'd all been a waste of time. The stairwell was narrow, just wide enough for one person, meaning they had to go one at a time. The stairwell gently curved to the left and up into a hallway. The hallway stretched on for about ten feet before ending in a doorway to the catwalks. A quick check confirmed they were still sturdy, and the three of them stepped out.
From there it was a long trek through the narrow, winding corridors and canals of the sewers. They stopped when they neared the Thielplatz station, but the door to the surface had collapsed, meaning they had no choice but to continue through the sewers. They pressed on, damp with sweat and sewer water and stinking by the time they reached the cistern beneath the Botanical Gardens.
The floor of the cistern was actually several feet down from the canals that fed it, the canals ending in sharp drops for the waterways and narrow stairwells for the pathways. At some point the ground above the cistern had collapsed and the foliage above had grown down into the cistern, the halls lined with vines and algae and tree roots. It was strangely beautiful in a way, even if the flora had mutated over the years from the radiation.
"OK, so there's Canal C" Hans said, pointing ahead and just to the right, the arch of the canal clearly marked. "We'll follow that to Schoneberg, and then-"
Hans was cut off by a series of loud thumping and growling, and from a canal to the left emerged a slime-covered monster, dripping with water. It was bipedal, its webbed hands ending in talons, and its eyes a blank shining black. Its underside was a pebbled tan and its back was peppered with green scales in a borderline camouflage-like pattern. It flopped into the cistern and rose, easily eight or nine feet tall, and let out a grinding croak, its neck inflating and deflating as it did so.
Walter was the first to react. "RUN! GET THE FUCK OUT!" he shouted, and took off into the maw of Canal C. Hans and Hilda wasted no time in following him, the beast croaking louder, almost roaring. It lumbered after them, forced to hunch down in the narrow tunnel. Fortunately it couldn't move fast like this, so the team was able to get ahead and to a safe distance.
"What the Hell was that thing?!" Hilda asked when they stopped to catch their breath.
"Croaker. The Botanischer Garten was home to thousands of European green toads before the war. Used to be they could fit in the palm of your hand; today they're that thing" Walter explained, and pointed back the way they'd come. The Croaker had caught up, its upper body bumping and rubbing against the ceiling of the canal as it went, its blank eyes as big as volleyballs. Its tongue darted out, tasting the air, and the team took off again.
Running from the Croaker, as it turned out, was easy. The creature was unable to keep up in the tight tunnels and it wasn't long before the team slowed down again, panting. Hans fished out the map and unfolded it with shaky hands, holding it aside so as to not block the light from the bulbs on the wall. The plaque on the wall said 'Friedenau', and Hans checked the map. There was an exit to the surface nearby, as well as a U-Bahn station: Friedrich-Wilhelm-Platz.
Hans took a deep breath and blew it out. According to the map there was a portal, a short passage connecting the sewers with the subway tunnel, nearby. Crank-powered flashlight in hand he began checking the walls for any plaques, and it wasn't long before he found one labelled 'Kanal C zur U-Bahnlinie.' The portal.
"Through here" he said, and his friends followed. The door opened and after a short trek down the hall they emerged through another door and into the dark subway tunnel. There was a plaque above the door on the subway side, 'Kanal C Abwasserleitung', and a plaque to the right bearing words and arrows. 'Westbound line, left. Next station: Botanischer Garten und Museum. Northbound line, right. Next station: Yorckstrasse. Underneath these statements were the names of the following two stations. Westbound, Freie Universitat and Krumme Lanke. Northbound, Gleisdreieck and Pariser Platz. Home.
"Not far now, just two more stations before we hit Pariser Platz. Let's take a minute to eat and drink and then we'll get going" Hans said, and busted out his canteen. After eating a tin of dried sardines and gulping some water Hans was ready to go, and shortly after Walter and Hilda were finished as well.
"We spent all that time resting in the basement of the Genetics Institute and it still feels like I haven't slept in days. Just being near those God damned Rovers is exhausting, not to mention dodging armored mercs" Walter said once they got moving again.
"You think they were mercs? They definitely weren't U-Bahners" Hilda said.
"All sorts of little groups and movements send out armed squads to raid and loot this or that. For example, the Communists at Fernsehturm. They'd still be around today if the U-Bahnen hadn't asked Hans and I to get rid of them. Did I ever tell you that story?" Walter asked, and Hilda nodded with a roll of her eyes.
"Yes. The Communists were screwing with the stations. Demanding the stations take on more communist-like governments and encouraging the U-Bahnen to share food, water, and shelter with surface dwellers. Then they started stealing water from the pumps outside the DHM station, and that's when you guys got involved."
"It's a good thing they locked you up, else we'd have killed you when we stormed the compound" Walter said.
Hilda snorted derisively. "As if I was going to pick up a gun for those assholes after what they did to me. I told their great leader he was an idiot and they threw me in a cage. Said my 'comradely relationship with humanity was in need of repair', said I needed to read the gospel of 'Comrade Marx', and left me with some books. I was happy to blow up their stupid tower after."
"Those guys at the Genetics Institute definitely weren't communists. At least, not the same ones from Fernsehturm. The few that survived and escaped, anyway" Hans chimed in.
"So if they weren't U-Bahners or commies, who the Hell were they? Nazis?" Walter asked, and Hans scoffed.
"Haven't seen a Nazi in fifteen years. Most people stopped caring about the Jews when the Resource Wars began and they had a new religion to hate, I'm guessing."
Hilda cocked her head. "What's a Jew?"
Hans was about to answer her question when he stopped. The tunnel gate to the Yorckstrasse station was open, and people were walking around laughing. He crouched low, motioned for the others to do the same, and moved forward. A group of marauders were wandering around the station, clearly very happy with themselves. Hans didn't see any bodies, and there were no visible signs of a battle, which was odd. There was only the three marauders, dirty and scarred, dressed in the usual patchwork armor common to raiders. Spiked shoulder pauldrons, a pickelhaube helmet wrapped in barbed wire, even a scavenged combat armor leg piece on one of them. Nothing a U-Bahner would wear. He nodded to Hilda, who took up a position on the other side of the gate. Walter lied down in the middle of the tracks, Madsen out and bipod deployed. Hans rounded the corner, rifle shouldered, and took aim.
"Freeze!"
The marauders scattered, diving behind the support pillars or stalls, and the team opened fire. A tremendous storm filled the tight spaces of the U-Bahn station, deafening everyone on the platform, the tunnel cast in the bright muzzle flashes. The marauders, unable to move and unable to respond, were quickly cut down, their cover whittled away by the onslaught of bullets. When it was over, the heavy odor of sulfur and blood hung in the air, and the team moved into the station. The two marauders by the edge of the platform lied bleeding, the crimson dripping onto the tracks. The third had dragged himself behind a stall, half of his body exposed. Hans moved slowly, keeping clear of the marauder's reach, gun trained on him. The marauder had been hit in the midsection, a syringe of Med-X in his trembling hand.
"OK... OK... OK wait, don't kill me, don't kill me..." the marauder breathed. He was fading, fast. His gun, an ancient Reichsrevolver, was lying by his side. He nudged it away from himself with his other hand, Hans with his finger on the trigger. Walter and Hilda set about looting the other bodies of ammo, medical supplies, and silver tokens.
"Where are the station dwellers?" Hans asked, and the marauder looked at him.
"Gone, man. Just...gone. We found the station like this, abandoned..." the marauder said. The needle of the Med-X syringe entered his leg and his trembling stopped. His wounds were fatal, but there was always that will to keep going, even for just one more minute. Hans shared a look with Walter and Hilda and relaxed. First the station at Saint Michael's, now the one at Yorckstrasse. The questions just kept piling up, no answers in sight.
"If... If you patch me up, I'll leave, I swear. We just needed a place-"
*BAM!*
It was the last round. Hans reloaded.
The rest of the trip home to Pariser Platz passed without incident. They stopped at Gleisdreieck to rest for a few hours before continuing on down the tracks, weary and drained. It wasn't long before the lights of Pariser Platz came into view, the hand-built doorway on the tracks closed and secured. Hans reached up, turned the knob, and pushed the door open.
Pariser Platz station was empty.
The three of them didn't even have the energy to be shocked, just wary. Everything was still in place; the apartments, the bar (sans liquor), everything. Walter and Hilda checked their rooms, and everything was still there, untouched. Hans slowly shambled up the steps to the station's second floor, his room untouched. The door to councilor Edmund's room was opened, and Hans slowly stepped into the doorframe. There she sat, hands folded in her lap. She looked up and her eyes widened in disbelief.
"Herr Eckhart, Steinbatz... Fraulein Muller... You're...back? Alive?!" she said, and stood. "My God, it's been almost two days, I thought you were all dead. What... What happened?!"
Hans told her everything about the mission to the Genetics Institute. The Rovers, the unknown men, the vertibird, the very malevolent looking man in the armored suit, the truth behind the genesis of the Rovers, their flight through the sewers, and the disappearance at Yorckstrasse. At this, she nodded.
"Did you ever get in touch with a caravan? Ask them about the men at Saint Michael's?" Hans asked, and she shook her head.
"I don't need to. Now, I can answer your questions. What happened at Saint Michael's, and Yorckstrasse, happened here. Men came, in uniforms. Two armored, two unarmored. They came bearing a hoard of food and water, offered it for free. Asked if anyone wanted more, if anyone wanted a new life, a better life. They told us of their home, a secure city. Free housing for all in beautiful and maintained buildings. Townhouses, apartment blocks, motels. They made promises of running water, electricity, fresh grown crops. They asked if we were willing to help them rebuild Germany in a new image. An image of prosperity, unity. They promised fair pay for honest work. On their uniforms was an insignia: a winged Iron Cross, a sword in the middle. They've been recruiting from the stations for days. Those that said yes were escorted into waiting halftracks and driven away" councilor Edmund explained.
"Driven away? To where?" Walter asked.
"Hamburg."
The team shared a look with each other. "I stayed, in case you three came back. To tell you what happened. I don't know what we should do now, to be honest with you. The stations can't survive like this, but if there's an organization out there offering something better..."
"We should go to Hamburg. See what it's all about" Hilda said, and Walter nodded. Hans rubbed his chin, unsure of what to think. It was clear now that members of this organization were the ones they'd seen at the Genetics Institute. Trouble was, if they were promising to rebuild Germany through honest labor, then what were their soldiers doing at the Institute?
"They might have work for us, if nothing else" Walter said.
"I agree, so I guess we're going to Hamburg. We all need to rest a few days, get our things packed. I'm curious more than anything, but if councilor Edmund is right then the U-Bahnen won't exist for much longer. Everything they're promising sounds good" Hans said.
Hilda put her hands on her hips. "So did what the assholes at Fernsehturm promised me. You know how that ended."
"It's worth a shot, at least." Hans sat down in one of the plush chairs councilor Edmund kept in her room. "Will you be coming with us, councilor Edmund?"
She smiled. A worried smile. "Please, just call me Klara. There is no council now, so I guess the answer is yes. I have my own things I'll need to pack, but if you're all going to rest for a few days before we leave then I'll have it all packed away by then."
Hans, Hilda, and Walter all nodded to each other. "To Hamburg, then."
A/N: I've been keeping an eye on the traffic graphs, to see if any Germans have checked out the story yet. So far not a single German has found the story. A few people from the Czech Republic, a few from Switzerland, even two Ukrainians have checked out the story! But no Germans yet.