Shadows of Tomorrow

"DOWN! DOWN, DOWN!" Hans yelled, Hilda already rushing down the stairs. He followed her as fast as he could go, their feet a blur as they rushed out of the tower. There was a horrifying, gut-wrenching feeling of the ground moving as the stricken vertibird slammed into the air traffic control tower and exploded, a jet of smoke and debris chasing them down the stairs. The two of them reached the floor and the blast pushed them out the rest of the way, smoke trailing off them and the door frame in thick wisps. Hilda fell to the ground and Hans chased her, covered her with his body, as whatever remained of the vertibird fell away from the tower and the rest of the terminal, and the shaking finally stopped.

Hans took his hands off his head, little pieces of glass raining off him, and he stood. Hilda rolled over and climbed back onto trembling feet, shaking her head. "Jesus!" she said. She brushed herself off, spun in place, and bent over, her hands on her knees. She laughed; a few short laughs of incredulity and relief, and put a hand on her head. "...Jesus."

Hans let out a breath to calm himself, as amazed as Hilda was that they'd survived, and Walter and Klara came rushing over. "My God, are you two OK?" Klara asked, and Hans nodded.

"We... We gotta take out that anti-aircraft cannon before it knocks down any more of the vertibirds!" Hans said, and hefted his rifle. He was about to head back up the tower when Walter stopped him, a hand on his shoulder.

"There's a side door, over here!" Walter yelled, and jerked his head towards a little alcove near the stairs that Hans had missed. The team rushed over to the door, weapons at the ready, and Walter pushed it open. The bright morning sun beamed in through the opening, the roar of the battle outside rushing in with it.

The door opened up on some kind of balcony or passageway, running from the boarding gates back towards the concourse. Directly across from it was the parking garage, the flak cannon turning as the raiders worked the cranks to track another vertibird. The gunner fired before the others finished turning, and the heavy cannon thundered into the sky, its shell missing the helicopter. Hans and Walter set up on the balcony's railing with their weapons, took aim, and fired.

The raiders on the left side of the flak gun all fell in the burst of gunfire, their comrades scrambling to respond to the sudden threat. The cannon began to turn towards them, the gun lowering as the raiders frantically rotated. Hans waited patiently, the raiders unwittingly exposing themselves to him. He fired, and fired again, the rifle kicking hard into his shoulder. The raider in charge of the cannon's elevation fell to the pavement, dead, leaving just a few remaining. One of them hopped down off the gun and scrambled behind some cover, and Walter fired to suppress him.

The raider still on the flak gun fired it, the shell smashing into the balcony further down, a massive plume of smoke and glass and stone erupting. Hans hunched down instinctively, errant shrapnel zinging by him and the others. The mighty gun recoiled hard, sliding back on the pavement. Hans moved left, trying to get a better angle on the raider. He started rotating the gun again, the menacing blackness of the muzzle turning closer towards them. With the gun in position the raider hopped down behind it to reload, only scant glimpses of him visible behind the weapon.

Come on, come on...

Hans licked his lips, mouth dry, as the raider pulled another shell out from the box they were storing them in and hoisted it into the weapon's breech. He stayed low by it, reaching up towards the firing grip, and Hans finally saw his opportunity. He fired, hitting the raider in the shoulder. The raider cried out in pain and surprise and scrambled into a crouch. A fatal error, for Hans was free to plug additional rounds into him, killing him.

The final raider, seeing all of her friends dead, booked it straight for the cannon, looking for revenge. Walter's Madsen thundered in response, the rounds tearing into her body. She fell forward under momentum, colliding face-first with the flak gun. Dead.

Hans looked back at Walter. "There's still raiders out in the parking lot. Let's go fix that, eh?" Walter said with a smile, and the four of them took off back into the terminal, through the hall, down the stairs, and back to the main concourse. There were a few Fieldmen there, checking rooms and tying up what few raiders were still breathing. Pariser Team slowed down near the doors, checked their weapons, and nodded to each other.

Keeping low they fanned out and left the terminal through one of the many doors, the warm morning air greeting them as they emerged on the sidewalk outside. There was a narrow street, lined with the empty husks of taxi cabs (a skeleton still in the passenger seat of one), and a series of bridges over a wider street below. Across the bridges was the parking lot for the airport, a hotel at the far side. All across the parking lot were pillboxes, rows of razor wire, sandbags, and raider machine gun positions. The fortifications all provided cover for a frontal assault on the airport, but had no protection at the rear, leaving them open to the Fieldmen.

Hans looked up and watched a vertibird approach the hotel, praying that there were no more 88's around to knock it out of the sky. The helicopter slowed and hovered close to the hotel's roof, and two squads of Fieldmen dropped out and vanished as they ran into the hotel through any open door or hole they could find. Two more vertibirds swooped into position above the parking lot and descended. Hans took cover behind one of the cabs and watched as the side doors of the vertibird opened. A man on a mounted MG-34 in each provided cover as squads of heavily armored Fieldmen dropped out and began rushing raider positions, assault rifles in hand.

"Storm troopers..." Walter said, and Hans gave him a look. "One of the guys back at the Stadtpark told me about them after the battle. They wear these form-fitting body suits, strap themselves up in some of the heaviest combat armor around, don these helmets that give them a full-seal, gas protection and air filtration and everything, are handed a Sturmgewehr, FG-42, or something else equally badass and told to kill everything in sight."

Hans watched as the stormtroopers set out and the Fieldmen followed, bolstered by the reinforcements. The vertibirds circled around overhead, door gunners cutting down raiders anywhere and everywhere they saw them. Hans licked his lips, the battle beginning to die out as the last of the raiders outside were killed or surrendered, and Fieldmen began to move into the hotel.

"Let's go back inside" Hans said, and the four of them moved back into the terminal. Some of the Order's Fieldmen were wandering around the concourse, checking for survivors and collecting weapons, ammo, and supplies. Raiders weren't known to keep stockpiles of food or medicine around, but chems had their uses. The team proceeded through the concourse, checking closed doors where they found them to make sure there were no raiders hiding out, waiting to ambush them or the Fieldmen.

The concourse, once a grand and beautiful plaza filled with shops and displays, had fallen victim to the looting and macabre décor raiders were known to display. The concourse had a pair of stairs, and Hans followed them up to what was once a lounge. Chairs and tables were set about, some tipped over or broken, and at the end of the floor was a massive window, broken and in pieces, that looked out onto the runways. A beautiful sight, once upon a time.

There was a bar to the left, the shelves barren, and the team spread out. The lounge was clear of any raiders, for which Hans was grateful. He walked to the end of the floor, Walter by his side. Outside the Order's halftracks could be seen, parked and with rear doors open, Fieldmen standing around them. The battle still went on elsewhere in the airport, but it was winding down as far as Hans could tell. "That's some view, eh? We should probably get back to the fight, see if any of the teams still need help."

Hans nodded. "Yeah." He turned back to address the girls, who were by the bar. Hilda was just looking around, Erma at the ready, while Klara was pulling open cabinets and cupboards with one hand, her Drilling in her off hand. "Let's get going, everyone."

They were about to head back for the stairs when Klara opened a closet and screamed. At once they all spun, weapons at the ready, and Hans saw her struggling with a raider who was trying to stab her with a syringe. "Oh, get OFF of me!" Klara yelled, holding onto the raider by his wrists. "Shoot him!"

"I'm trying!" Hilda said, moving left. There wasn't a clear shot, the raider still in the closet and trying to drag Klara into it with him. The raider hit the plunger and whatever was in the syringe squirted onto Klara's shoulder, staining her shirt orange.

"SHOOT HIM, PLEASE, GOD PLEASE SHOOT THIS ASSHOLE ALREADY!"

"For God's sake..." Hans said, trying to line up with the raider's head. If he fired there was a good chance he'd kill Klara, but no one else had a good shot yet either. Hans shifted right, towards the window, just waiting for his chance, when there was a short bark of automatic fire and the raider's head was torn open.

The raider fell to the ground and Klara staggered back, covered in his blood. She snatched up her Drilling and emptied a round into the body's chest, deeply upset. "Fucking... Ugh!" she said, and wiped her face. She crouched down and picked up the syringe. "What the Hell was even in this... Psycho, isn't that just great."

Hans lowered his rifle and looked at Hilda, who had fired the burst that killed the raider. "You alright?" she asked, and Klara nodded. She tossed the syringe down, smashed it under her foot, and walked away from the bar and back towards the stairs. The rest of the group joined her and down they went back to the concourse's main floor.

"What an asshole... I'm not sure what's worse; either he was trying to kill me, or he was trying to get me hooked on some God-awful drug" Klara said. "Probably give me AIDS too, little weasel-dicked faggot."

Hans shared a look with Walter, who grinned. "Who knew our councilor had such a foul mouth on her?" he quipped.

"Oh shut up, you brute."

The four of them proceeded back the way they'd originally come, into the main entrance area with the escalators. Together they went up, two on each of the paired escalators, and emerged on another boarding platform. The fresh raider bodies scattered about proved that the Fieldmen had already come through, but still they pressed on. "I wonder if any of the planes still here could ever fly again" Hans said.

The mere thought of it was enough to make Hilda turn green. "God, I hope not. I'd rather walk" she said as they proceeded down the boarding tunnel. The end of it had been hit with a grenade or explosive of some kind, the walls charred with soot and embers. There were no planes at the end of the tunnel, though a quick look outside showed there were a few planes still hooked up to other boarding tunnels. "Take a look at that..."

Hans turned around at Hilda's voice, the young woman standing by the other side of the boarding tunnel's two exits. Way across the airport, just sitting on the northern runway, was an airplane. The aircraft had partially drifted onto one of the lawns between runways and had sat there ever since. Hilda turned back around to face Hans and Walter. "When did the bombs drop?"

"October 23, 2077."

"No, I mean what time did they drop?"

Hans and Walter shared a look. "Four* in the afternoon? Somewhere around there?" Hans asked, and Walter nodded.

"Had to be. It was a Saturday, and I'd just passed my middle school chemistry test the day before..." Walter said, and trailed off. "We did not have easy childhoods, even then, but our problems were familiar. Significant, but not insurmountable. When The Bomb came, I'd never been more scared in my life."

He went silent and Hans looked at Hilda. "Hundreds of bombs and nuclear missiles landed on Germany that sunny afternoon. Everywhere you looked, mushroom clouds. They could be seen even from far away. Berlin was spared any direct hits, but only by luck, and it looks like Hamburg enjoyed similar luck. I've been near Cologne, though, and... It's bad. Probably one of the worst places on Earth, now. A green, twisted crater, still glowing to this day. Some of the creatures that live there, thrive there...? Horrific. The chaos and panic was unimaginable." He gestured out at the airplane on the runway. "When The Bomb struck, electronics went down. That plane's fusion engine would've died as it drove down the runway and it would've just drifted to a stop."

Hilda seemed to think about it for a few moments. "I was three years old when the nukes came, I don't remember anything before that. All I've ever known is the wasteland" she said forlornly. "But, you two said things were bad before the nukes fell."

"Indeed" Walter said. "Things are worse now than then, but like I've said, Europe's troubles began long before The Bomb came."

Hans watched as one of the Order's halftracks came around the rusting hulk of a destroyed airplane and slowly drove in their direction, coming to a halt near the door to the Fliegerclub. The rear doors were opened and a Fieldman stepped out, and a moment later the doors to the club opened as well. Two Fieldmen came out, followed by a line of restrained raiders. "Let's go take a look" Hans said, and the four of them eased themselves down to the tarmac.

The line of raiders, all eleven of them, were marched out next to the halftrack and stopped by the Fieldmen. The Final Order soldiers noticed Pariser Team approaching, nodded, and spoke among themselves for a moment. Hans slung his rifle as they neared the Fieldmen and took a look at the raiders. "What's this? Slave labor?" he asked.

One of the Fieldmen nodded. "This lot of human garbage is going to be offered a chance to do some good for a change. To help the Order rebuild our country" the man said, and nodded to his comrade. The Fieldman pointed to seven of the raiders and then jerked his head towards the halftrack, and the seven of them shuffled over to the vehicle, were herded in, and were driven off. "Except these ones."

Hans took a look at them, all ghouls. The Fieldman kicked each in their back of their legs, they dropped to their knees, and the man drew his pistol. "Woah, woah, what the Hell is this?" Walter asked, and the Fieldman looked at him.

"The Order has no place for abominations like these zombies" the Fieldman said, and shot one straight through the back of the head. The corpse fell to the ground in a pool of blood and brain matter, black eyes staring at nothing. "We have standing orders to execute monsters like zombies, muties, and all the other shit that plagues our country on the spot."

"Jesus!"

"Surely it'd be better to put them to work, like the other raiders?" Klara asked, and the Fieldman shook his head.

"There should be no tolerance for these abominations. They represent everything wrong with our country today. Especially these zombies; they're all ticking time bombs, could go feral at any second" the man said, and looked the team over. "You men look old enough to have been around before the bombs fell, so you should remember what it was like. No one's going to stick their neck out for these freaks, are they?"

Hilda walked forward. "Of course not, I hate ghouls. Here, allow me" she said, and pulled her P38. Without even a moment's hesitation she shot the second ghoul in the back of the head, and then the third, and moved on down to the last.

"Fuck you, smoothskin!"

Hilda shot him and holstered her pistol. "Bunch of nasty racists if you ask me" she said, and the Fieldman nodded. Hilda returned to her spot next to Hans and put her hands in her pockets. "What happens now?"

"What happens now is we burn these corpses, but you mercs ought to head back to Hamburg and report to Director Jaeger. With the airport under our control now all operations are going to pick up. We're going to... Looks like your friend has something he wants to say" the Fieldman said, and everyone looked at Walter.

"I'm not going to lose any sleep over dead raiders, but you and the little one shot these men dead because of what they are, not who they are. You're right, I am old enough that I was around before The Bomb, and I remember what I was taught in school. About what our ancestors did to people they vilified, like Jews and homos. This looks an awful lot like that" Walter said.

The Fieldman scoffed. "Please. Jews are human, these things are not" he said, and gestured at the ghouls.

"Funny. The Nazis said the same thing about the Jews."

"What's a Nazi?" Hilda asked. Walter looked stunned.

"See? She doesn't know what she's doing, can't see how much it resembles a past that should stay buried and forgotten."

"Alright, alright, that's enough, Walter" Hans said, and took a step forward so he could address the whole team. "We can talk more about this some other time, but right now we really ought to go back to the Rathaus."

Walter seemed to think about it for a few moments before he nodded. "Alright... Alright, fine. Let's get going then" he said, and the Fieldman nodded. He keyed his radio, asked for one of the halftracks to come by, and a few minutes later the vehicle came slowly rolling across the tarmac. The team boarded the Hanomag and settled in for the ride back to the Hamburg City Center.

They were silent the whole way back.

"Very good job, Herr Eckhart. I really must thank you for helping the Order secure Hamburg Airport. It'll be a while before it will be a true base for the Order, but at least now we've got real facilities to keep our vertibirds working" Director Otto Jaeger said once the team had made it back to the Hamburg Rathaus and presented their report. "It's a shame we lost one of those birds, plus all the men onboard, to that damn flak gun. Raiders may not be very crafty, but they're a real threat alright."

Hans nodded. "Thank you. It was a team effort, as you can imagine. Your Fieldmen are quite exceptional, as are the stormtroopers, if the short glimpse we got of them was any indication" he said, and Otto Jaeger smiled.

"And they're only one part of the Final Order's overall force. Maybe one day you'll see what I'm talking about, and if you do then I expect you'll be quite happy that they're on your side. Now, I imagine you'll be wanting more work. And, perhaps, I imagine you'll want to officially join the Final Order."

Hans glanced at Walter, who looked impassive. "We've decided to remain as freelancers for the time being, but we're more than happy to continue working for you and the Order if you have a job you think we're a fit for" Hans said, and Jaeger nodded.

"Yes, yes indeed" he said, and sat down behind his desk. "Projekt Natursturm. This will be the first you've heard of it. Imagine, if you will, that the trees on Unter der Linden in Berlin could bloom again. Imagine, if you will, fresh grass and beautiful, healthy flowers. Imagine, fresh, clean, water for everyone. Difficult to imagine?"

"Very."

"The Final Order has such a goal, in Project Nature Storm. A machine, and the scientists who can operate it, capable of producing clean water and fresh seeds. Birch, oak, beech, and all the flowers you can imagine. Corn, potatoes, wheat, rice, and lush green grass. Some day in our future, Herr Eckhart, Germans will squabble over who's responsible for mowing the lawn that day" Jaeger said with a smile.

"And this is possible?" Hans asked, and Jaeger leaned forward.

"It will be. To that end, the Final Order is seeking out botanists, chemists, and technical engineers across the Fatherland, people who will have the knowledge to use this technology. This work will transform Germany, will stabilize the demand for basic staples of every day life, and will put our country back on track to recovering from the horrors of nuclear war."

"And you want us to be a part of this?"

Jaeger nodded. "Indeed. Who wouldn't want to be a part of a movement to change the world? To that end, I'd like to ask you if you and your team would be willing to travel to Peenemunde, on the coast of the Baltic Sea. 150 years ago it was the site of a rocket production and launch facility, and in the decades before The Bomb it was the site of a technological museum. It stands to reason that there'd be hydroponics machinery there, among other technological treasures. Your team would be tasked with recovering anything of value and then proceeding to Munich, the capital of the Final Order, to deliver this salvage to our scientists there."

Hans thought about it a moment. "How would we do that?"

"Vertibirds. The Order's presence in Peenemunde is very sparse. The whole area is quite remote, with only a few villages and towns in the area. Scouting suggests that Peenemunde is abandoned, despite the suspected value of the salvage there, which suggests to me that the area is infested by some horror or another. Could be anything from ghouls and Sturmutants to Rovers or Croakers. Or worse. I recommend caution, as always. Your team, along with a cargo-capable vertibird courtesy of our comrades in Munich, would proceed to Peenemunde and conduct a thorough search of all the facilities on the grounds" Jaeger explained.

Hans shared a look with Walter, who shook his head. "There's something else I'd like to discuss. ES-886. One of the officers at the Stadtpark mentioned this. What is it?"

Jaeger stood. "All enemies of humanity, regardless of status, are to be terminated on sight. Mutants, Rovers, Croakers, and ghouls, feral and sane" he said, and looked at Hilda. "Human combatants have their uses as a labor force, but the aforementioned abominations, among others, are not permitted by the Order to exist. As I understand it, from reports that other team leaders have brought to me, Fraulein Muller had no difficulty in executing this directive."

"That's one way of putting it" Walter said, and Jaeger sighed.

"The Final Order has its own ethics, its own morals, and its own directives. We like to think most German Ödländer have no problem with removing from society the abominations that plague their lives, but understand there is resistance to the idea" Jaeger said, and sat back down. "We are not Nazis, Herr Eckhart. National Socialism, Communism, these are the failed ideologies of a bygone era. The Final Order is going to usher in a new era of thinking, a paradigm shift in the way people understand the world. When Projekt Natursturm brings clean water and fresh food back to the Wasteland, people will applaud the work that the Order did to do that."

Hans nodded. "I understand. We're in."

Otto Jaeger smiled, produced an envelope, and handed it to Hans. "Head outside to the plaza. The vertibird there will take your team to Peenemunde. Good hunting, Herr Eckhart."

Hans nodded and the four of them left the office, proceeded downstairs, and walked out the front doors of the Rathaus. Parked by the river was the vertibird, the side doors open. A technician climbed in through the narrow door and looked over the cockpit, checking the instruments. He came back outside a few minutes later, nodded at the team, and proceeded past them. There was no one else around, and nothing to do but wait. Hans leaned against the stone railing that ran along the end of the plaza and looked down at the river, thinking. Peenemunde was officially a museum now, according to Jaeger, but had once been a rocket facility. If there was hydroponics technology there, then it was likely there'd also be rocket technology there. Or at least some manner of military technology. The Director had ordered them to retrieve anything of value there, which had to include military technology.

Hans frowned. There was more going on than Director Jaeger had let them in on. Projekt Natursturm was a long shot, a complete fantasy in his opinion, but there was merit in the idea. Hans guessed that at best the Final Order would be able to employ this project on a small scale, but even a small scale improvement like that would go a long way to improving the lives of Wastelanders.

The real objective, Hans figured, was whatever military tech still existed at Peenemunde. If the area was truly uninhabited by man, then it'd undoubtedly be inhabited by abominations of some kind. What that would be was anyone's guess, but Hans figured they'd be ready for it.

He looked up and saw three men walking towards them, two of them in flight suits, and pushed away from the railing. Hilda was sitting on the ground, her legs crossed, and she looked up at him. She didn't look very happy. "Guessing you're not looking forward to getting back on one of these" he said, and she shook her head. She slowly stood and brushed herself off.

"I'd rather walk" she said, and Hans smiled. The three men had already climbed into the vertibird, and he and his team began to do the same. The interior was pretty cramped, with two benches facing each other on a raised section behind the cockpit**. The whole affair was similar to that of the halftracks, only completely enclosed. The men in the flight suits were already in their seats and preparing the vehicle for takeoff, the third man at the back of the cabin looking over crates of supplies. The four members of Pariser Team sat down on the benches, two on each, and strapped in.

The Fieldman at the back of the cabin stepped back, headed up to the cockpit, and pulled the doors to the cabin shut. He turned around, his hand on a strap attached to the ceiling, and Hans was shocked to see that it was none other than Sergeant Paul March. "Hello there, folks. Say hello to the newest member of your team" he said with a smile as the aircraft lurched into the sky. Hans swallowed the lump in his throat and started taking long, deep breaths as they ascended, pitched forward, and took off towards Peenemunde.

*The bombs fell at 9:47am on the East Coast of the U.S, which would put it at 3:47pm in Germany.
**Vertibirds as they appear in this story are a mix. The bulk of them are the Fallout 2/3/NV version, and will be referred to as VB-03 where appropriate. Vertibird Gunships are a German-modified version of such, with side-mounted sponson cannons a la the British Mark V tank, and will be referred to as VBGS-03 where appropriate.