Peenemunde

"Sergeant March. Quite a surprise to see you here, with us" Hans said, and Paul smiled.

"It's Lieutenant now, actually. Not that it will matter to you. Director Jaeger offered me a promotion, from border security to Fieldman, with the stipulation that I accompany your group as far as Munich" Paul explained, and Hans frowned.

"He didn't mention this to us" Hans said.

"Officially I am not a part of your team. I am still under the command of the Final Order. The Director simply tasked me with the same mission as your team, and made sure I'd be on the first bird out of Hamburg. Which, of course, happens to be yours" Paul said, and Hans nodded.

"A babysitter. Terrific. Well, five is better than four I suppose. Can you at least tell us a little more about what we're supposed to be looking for?" Hans said.

Paul shrugged. "I was told about as much as you probably were. Peenemunde is an ancient museum and former rocket facility, abandoned and uninhabited. Be on the lookout for any valuable salvage but exercise extreme caution blah blah blah. Bottom line, you're stuck with me until Munich. Or, am I stuck with you?"

"I think...we're stuck with you..." Klara said, and Hans looked at her. Her and Hilda looked like they were about to lose whatever they'd had for breakfast, the two of them leaning against the wall and taking deep breaths through their noses to calm their nauseous stomachs. Hans had to admit, flying wasn't exactly a comfortable experience.

"I'm with Klara on this one" Walter commented, and Paul nodded.

"I heard about what happened at the airport. Nasty business, I'm sure, but necessary. At any rate, we'll be at Peenemunde in under an hour. Get as comfortable as you can and hold on until then" Paul said, and stepped down into the cockpit to talk with the pilots. Hans turned his attention back to his team, glad they were holding it together.

"At least there's no windows. I don't think I could take seeing how high we are" Hans said, and Hilda put a hand over her mouth. Her other hand was on the seat next to her, trying to keep as much of her body as possible in contact with the walls of the aircraft.

"Stop talking, please" she said, and Hans nodded. He leaned back in his seat, put his ankle on his knee, and settled in. It was going to be a long flight to Peenemunde; he might as well try to get some rest in.

An hour later the vertibird slowed and Hans figured they were getting ready to descend. He stood, his hand on the wall of the helicopter, and there was a lurch as they started back towards the ground. Paul stepped back up into the troop compartment, STG in hand. "We're here, everyone" he said, and the rest of the team began to stir. The vertibird settled onto the ground and the engines began to wind down.

Hilda staggered past the two of them, a hand on Hans' shoulder. "Out of my way, get out of my way" she said hoarsely. She pushed the door to the troop compartment open and practically fell out of the helicopter and onto the ground, her limbs splayed. "Grass... At last..."

Hans rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Paul. "Alright, what's the plan?" he asked, and Paul slung his rifle. He gestured to the door and the team disembarked from the vertibird. They were on a shoreline, reeds and dead grass all around. Forty feet away was a beach, the gray expanse of the Baltic Sea stretching on beyond that. Far in the distance Hans could see the shores of Denmark and Sweden, the remains of a town and even the smoke from a campfire.

To his right, across the river, was a power station, the aging brick stained and chipped. Two smokestacks rose up from the middle of the building, a third mostly destroyed. A large conveyor belt emerged from the right side of the plant and down into a small outbuilding, the belt contained in a wall of brick and windows. The outbuilding had the twisted, rusted remains of a track above it. Tipped over by the outbuilding was a crane which once rode on the track, now a pile of debris.

Hans looked down as Hilda began to rose, her eyes transfixed on the Baltic. "My God..." she said, amazed. She slowly stood, her legs a little wobbly. "It's beautiful." Hans had to agree. It'd been over a decade since he'd last seen the ocean, and he'd forgotten how peaceful it really was. The water, while it'd be decades before it was blue again, was serene and quiet. Hans joined Hilda at her side and she looked at him. "You've been here before, haven't you?"

"No, but I have seen an ocean. The Atlantic, far to the West. Imagine this wide, unending horizon of water, beyond which you could only see the sky. No islands, no nations. It's...disorienting" Hans said, and Hilda nodded.

"What's across the Atlantic?" Hilda asked.

"The United States. They were at war with China, and it was them who triggered the nuclear Armageddon that destroyed our world. Seeing as how the two of them had the biggest nuclear arsenals in the world I imagine that nothing remains of the U.S. It and China were probably completely erased."

Hilda looked down at the sandy beach a short distance ahead of her and frowned. "Serves them right, then."

"Folks, I don't mean to alarm you all, but... What is that thing?" Klara asked, and they all turned. She was pointing across the river at a towering pointed tube with fins at the bottom, painted in a black-and-white chessboard pattern. It was upright, pointing into the sky.

"A V2" Walter answered. "A Vengeance Weapon. The V1, and that Goddamn abomination standing there, were the first ballistic missiles created by man, over 150 years ago. This is cursed ground if I ever saw it."

"Could explain why Peenemunde's abandoned, though I imagine the true reason's a lot more grounded in reality" Paul said. "In any event, here's how we're going to do this. Or, at least, how I'm going to do it. You're welcome to do what you like. The fine pilots who brought us here are going to buzz off to a nice hiding spot where they can see Peenemunde, where they'll be joined by our friends from Munich. They're going to stay there until they receive the signal." He reached into a chest holster, produced a flare gun, and handed it to Hans. "I have one of those as well, in case one is lost."

Hans stuffed the flare gun into an empty pouch. "Is everyone ready to go?" he asked, and they all nodded. Paul gestured to the pilots and the vertibird's engines slowly came to life. The helicopter soon lifted off and raced away from Peenemunde, once again leaving them in silence. The five of them headed for a narrow foot bridge leading to the power plant, the boards partially rotted from water damage. Once they were across the Peenemunde power plant loomed over them, the windows all shattered and the building marked with bullet holes. All around were various facilities, warehouses, and sheds.

Near to the Peenemunde power plant was a dock, a few boats still lashed to the piers. At the far end of the dock was a submarine, partially sunken in the harbor, rusting and battered. A mystery lost to time. The team followed the road by the dock all the way to the base of the power plant, a single door in sight. The five of them snuck up to it and prepared to head inside. Hans put his hand on the handle, turned, and yanked.

The door didn't budge.

"Christ's sake." He tried again, and again the door didn't budge. "It's not locked. The knob just doesn't work anymore" he said, and took a step back. "Now what?"

"What about the outbuilding? It's got that tunnel connecting it to the second floor of the power plant. We could take that up" Walter said, pointing to the outbuilding. The team made their way over, keeping their eyes on the windows and being sure to stay near the walls for cover. The door to the outbuilding was busted, too, not that it mattered since it was wide open, and the team entered the outbuilding.

Inside the room was a machine shop, all manner of machines and workbenches scattered about. The team fanned out and started searching the room, checking the cabinets for anything worthwhile. Hans guessed the machine shop was for producing tools and parts on-site for the power plant, though there were no tools in sight. There was a wall separating the machine shop from the other room, and Hans made his way over. There was just a threshold and he passed through, emerging in the room for the conveyor belt. There were several large crates to the left, the belt going up at a 30-degree angle to the right. A quick check confirmed it was intact. "Over here" he called, and the others came.

"Looks like a straight shot, but it's a narrow path. Would make a good killzone if anyone saw us" Walter said.

"No one is supposed to be here, remember?" Klara asked.

"It's abandoned for a reason. Maybe whatever's here can't shoot us, but that doesn't mean we're alone."

Hans rubbed his chin for a moment. "So we go one at a time. Hilda, why don't you head up and see if the way's clear?" he said, and Hilda nodded.

"Allow me."

She hoisted herself up onto the belt and began walking up, Erma in hand. The belt and whole tunnel was pitched at 30 degrees, the path narrow. The other four stood assembled around the base of the belt, watching her make her way up. Hans supposed if she absolutely had to then Hilda could jump out the broken windows, though he hoped it wouldn't come to that. Halfway up there was a narrow walkway next to the belt, which Hilda transitioned to. She crouched low and kept moving, her gun trained on the opening at the top.

She was maybe three quarters of the way there when the belt shifted. She quickly scurried the rest of the way to the opening, keeping her eyes on it as the belt sagged and twisted. The brick walls erected around the belt began to crack, splinter, and a moment later broke away. With nothing to hold it up the mechanism for the conveyor belt collapsed, taking most of the tunnel with it. The whole array crashed to the ground in a pile of bricks and steel, cutting them off from Hilda.

"Hilda! Are you alright!" Hans called. She hopped through the opening at the end, did a quick check to make sure it was clear, and turned back to face them.

"I'm fine!" she called. "Looks like you'll have to find another way in, though. There's a door, maybe halfway across the first floor. It doesn't look locked. I'll head down and- Oh, SHIT!"

Hilda moved away from the opening and there was a burst of gunfire from her Erma, followed by another, followed by the sound of her completely emptying the magazine. There was no return fire, and once the last shot rang out there were no more after. Hans looked at Walter and Klara, their expressions grim.

"She's not screaming, so she's not dead. Let's get in there, but be careful" Walter said, and Hans nodded. The four of them rushed out of the machine shop and towards the main building, guns in hand. They rounded the corner and into the shadow of the plant, a grassy courtyard around them. To the right were what appeared to be offices, the plant to the left. The door was on the other end of the yard, where Hilda said it'd be.

"Walter, you're up" Hans whispered, and Walter nodded. Madsen in hand he turned the door's knob and pushed, and the heavy steel door swung in with a squeal. The four of them filed in, keeping low. The floor was dominated mostly by turbines, machines, pipes, and valves, though none of the turbines looked operational. Above them was an array of catwalks and stairs, going this way and that. At the far left end of the floor was a wide set of steel stairs, heading up to the conveyor belt.

"Left" Hans said, and they made their way over. There was no one and nothing else in the room besides them, leaving Hans to wonder just what it was that Hilda had shot at. There were 9mm cases scattered across the catwalk at the top of the stairs, and more on the floor below. Splattered on the stairs and wall was green blood, but no bodies, and Hans stood from his crouch. "Whatever's here takes 9mm's like candy and keeps asking for more, so keep your guard up."

The bulk of the catwalk proceeded back the way they'd come, leading to an open door in a stone archway. The harsh but distant clatter of automatic fire sprang up again, coming from somewhere deeper in the plant, telling them Hilda was still alive. They quickly made their way to the open doorway, weapons at the ready. One by one they moved through the door and into the plant's main room, massive electric generators on the floor below. Hans heard a rumbling, croaking groan from somewhere on the first floor followed by a few bursts of gunfire.

"Sounded like it came from the next room" Walter said, and Hans nodded. The catwalk proceeded straight across the middle of the cavernous room, an offshoot heading right, to a closed door. At the end of the catwalk, directly ahead of the team, was another door.

"Walter, Paul, check right. Klara, with me" Hans whispered, and they all nodded. The team split at the center of the T-junction and Hans kept his rifle trained on the closed door at the end. He reached up and carefully pushed it open, sticking the barrel of his G41 into the opening. He pushed the door open further and slowly crouch-walked out onto another catwalk, this one running along the wall. The room beyond was dominated from floor to ceiling by pipework, decaying and falling apart. A fresh burst of gunfire rang out on the floor below, though not aimed at them, followed by another groaning roar. Hans looked, his gun trained on the floor, and saw a flash of green movement between the pipes.

"Hilda!" Klara called, pointing to the far end of the room. She was crouching by a control console, reloading her Erma, and looked up. She waved the two of them off and disappeared through a door labelled 'basement.' Hans began moving back towards the door when the whole catwalk shook and buckled. He turned and, through the lattices of pipes, saw something hoisting itself up onto the catwalk.

"Back through the door!" he yelled, and the two of them rushed back to the T-junction, closing the door behind them. To the left the door at the bottom end of the junction stood open, Walter standing in the doorway. He waved the two of them over and they got moving. They had just reached the junction when the catwalk shook again, the whole assembly rattling. Hans watched as two large, tan, webbed hands grabbed the catwalk from below and pulled, the steel bending and warping as a Croaker pulled itself up, its hindlegs adhered to the wall. The massive mutant frog twisted its body and landed on the catwalk, its blank black eyes staring at them.

"RUN!"

Hans and Klara took off towards Walter, who opened up with the Madsen. The Croaker roared, its throat inflating, and reached for the wall. Hans watched the beast crawl along the wall like a spider, making a beeline straight for them, and then he and Klara were through the door.

"OVER HERE!" Hans heard Paul cry from the left, the Lieutenant standing in another doorway. Hans took one look down at the floor below and felt his blood run cold. The power plant was absolutely crawling with Croakers, the abominations looking up at them. Most of them were smaller than usual, probably juveniles, the bigger ones crawling up the walls towards them, their tongues darting out. Here, in the wide open spaces, the team was in their domain. Hans took off towards Paul and the open door, Walter and Klara right behind him, as Paul covered them. His STG barked harshly in the room, no shortage of targets to pick from. The team rushed into the room and Paul closed the door behind them, a Croaker's giant tongue lashing at the window. The glass held and the Croakers moved off, the thumping sound of them walking across the walls and ceiling the only thing that could be heard.

Hans took a look around in the room they'd ended up in, an office of some kind. The room was practically untouched, though not very large. The walls were steel and stone, like the rest of the plant, but the floor was carpeted. A plush red that was faded, but unstained. There was a desk directly across from the door, a typewriter and several sheets of paper on it.

"The Hell do we do now?" Paul asked as Hans made his way around the desk and sat down. The drawers were all unlocked but devoid of anything useful, except for a blue passcard. Hans stared at it thoughtfully before pocketing it, sure that it'd be useful. In the middle of the desk, directly above his knees, was another drawer. Locked.

"We've got the firepower. We could fight our way out of here" Walter said, and Paul looked at him with a mocking expression.

"Is this how you solve all your problems?" he asked, and Walter shrugged.

"The non-human ones, yeah."

Hans paid them no mind, instead focusing on the drawer. There was no key for the drawer anywhere on or in it, and he started looking the papers over. A funding report. Boring. Some notes on a speech. Very boring. And a script for tour guides. Curious, Hans picked it up and looked it over, but there was nothing particularly exciting or relevant that would help them escape. He set the paper down and turned his attention back to the desk.

"Those documents aren't going to help us get out of here, Hans. Unless one's about the secret weakness of Croakers" Klara said, and Hans rolled his eyes.

"This drawer is locked, and there's a damned good reason for it. We don't have many options, so I'm not leaving until every last inch is searched." With nothing in the drawers and nothing on top of the desk Hans looked around the room. There were a few filing cabinets and bookshelves, several pristine pre-War books on the latter. A nice find, if they ever got out of the power plant.

Hans' gaze settled on the typewriter and he had an idea. He picked the machine up and turned it over, but there was nothing underneath. He shook it and there was a little rattling, but nothing out of the ordinary. He decided it was worth checking anyway, stood, and dropped the typewriter to the ground. The machine shattered and its mechanical guts spilled out onto the carpet, and Hans crouched to sift through them. "That do anything for you, or just make you feel better?" Paul asked, and Hans ignored him. Springs and screws scattered across the carpet, along with little spools of tape and mechanical arms, and then he had it. Stuck to the case with a piece of tape was a key, and he tore it off.

"Jackpot."

Hans sat back in the chair and slid the key into the drawer's lock, turning it with an easy click. He pulled the drawer open and inside was a wooden case, a blue sheet of paper next to it. Very nice, high quality paper, as far as he could tell. Hans took the case out and set it aside, his attention on the paper. He pulled it out and began to read.

'My dearest friend.

I trust this letter will find you well. I deeply regret that it has been more than a year since we last had the pleasure of speaking in person, and I regret to inform you that it is terribly unlikely we ever will again. With the global situation degrading rapidly I have simply been too mired in my work to find the time. I did, however, find the time for this.

You see, a few months ago I was in England on business, and I discovered this beauty in a shop. The Brits may be Germany's old enemy, but I have to admit they have an eye for arms. The manufacturer of this piece is nearing the 175th anniversary of its original production, and with modern production techniques they have brought this impressive classic back, along with its unique ammunition. With things the way they are, plus your penchant for the mechanical, I think you'll appreciate it.

Be well, my dearest friend.

-Dr. Stanislaus Braun.'

Hans set the sheet of paper down and popped the case. Inside on a felt lining, along with three magazines, two boxes of ammunition, and a cleaning kit, was a Mars Automatic Pistol. Hans picked up the massive and immaculate handgun and showed it to the others, who merely stared at it.

"Holy fucking Hell" Walter said, and Hans couldn't help but grin.