Chapter-13

Clear and Present Danger

City of Aa-chen?

It was the traffic that did it. The disk had been promised at the exact correct post office box and the strange access code had worked. The major grumbled. Being an inquisition Tempestus Scion, a stormtrooper. He was unused to the idea of waiting for the target, others might have, but not him. He hated exposing himself in such a way, but the Fleet required more info, info the Inquisition was only too happy to find. And he and his team needed that up-to-date info if their mission was to succeed. And besides, these inhabitants with their advanced Archaeotech were so proud of their efficiency….

The Major folded the oversized envelope and disk and put it into his jacket. Everything he was wearing was "Native" in origin. He looked perfectly normal, and that was good thing. Stupid advanced tech. he thought. Once this planet was conquered, they would bring this world into their fold again, their tech would be put to better use in Imperial Service. He looked across to the crossing, as always, the natives were in their automobiles. He gave another look across the sidewalk on both sides. The Inquisition had promised that the safehouse was totally secure and that no one had the least suspicion that they were there. In fact, the sleek automobile with the words Taxe was his getaway vehicle. He was in a hurry. The cars had stopped due to the signal lights being red, however, the major was from a different dimension (not that he or the fleet knew it.) where even in civilian clothes, drivers were expected to stop at the sight of him regardless of the signal light, not unruly traffic like this. He was a hundred meters from the nearest traffic cop, and the Ulraznavian drivers could see that his back was turned. Thus, it came as a surprise as much to the Major and any Concordian tourist that when driving, orderly Ulraznavians are anything but.

He never saw the advancing car (for the sake of our readers, it was a Peugeot). It was not moving fast. 25 Km per hour. Fast enough. The right fender caught him by the hip, and spun him around before catapulting him into a lamppost. The major was unconscious before his brain even registered being hit by the car. Slamming headfirst, the damage was spectacular, a major artery cut, blood pooling out onto the sidewalk. While this was happening, his legs were still on the road, causing the car's rear wheels to crush his ankles with a sickening Crack! A child screamed, having not seen so much blood and a postal serviceman ran out of his truck to summon the cop and call for an ambulance. The driver of the Peugeot leaped out, pale to inspect the damage of what he had done. The stopped traffic allowed the taxi driver, An Imperial Lady inquisitor in disguise to rush forward. However, she cursed herself as already a large group of men and women were already gathered around the body.

"Er ist tot." A young girl in a black jacket and denim jeans casually observed. And to another observer, it may have seemed so, with his pale skin. However, the major was in shock, and so was the Peugeot's driver, who began stammering out his story in Francovian, not that Lady-Inquisitor knew or understood what language he was speaking. No. She needed to extract the major from this situation, and she could do it…

However, it was a bit too late as the traffic cop arrived. An Oberwachtmeister (Staff-Sergeant) of the Verkehrspolizei-Traffic police arrived. Wearing the distinctive grey jacket and black trousers, white gloves, and peaked cap, the cop quickly pushed himself in the front to inspect the body. It wasn't a pretty scene. The man's face and head were bloodied, his ankles didn't look much better. The cop made sure that the body wasn't moved. This was a big injury; experts would be needed. Looking up, he thankfully saw a Senior Watch officer, a police Leutenant, wearing the grey uniform and dark green cuffs and linings of the Bundespolizei come out of her Mercedes police cruiser. The young woman marched over to the traffic cop. "Oberwachtmeister, has the ambulance been called?" she asked.

He nodded. "Ja Fräulein Leutenant. A postal serviceman called the hospital, it'll be here in 5 minutes."

The lieutenant nodded. "What happened.?" The young Francovian man quickly began stuttering out his story before being cut off by a woman in a business suit.

"This man." She gestured at the unconscious body, "he crossed the street, he didn't see the car. Young fellow barely had a chance to stop his car."

An "international incident." The lieutenant groaned inwardly. And at a time just like this with the worldwide invasion occurring and her remobilization into the Landswehr, the Ulraznavian Reichsheer's reserves. More paperwork and data inputting. She really wished she'd finished her after-lunch Pilsner. Shrugging those thoughts, she turned her attention to the scene.

"Thank you, would you like to file a report for the record?" she asked the woman.

The woman nodded and handed her a card. "Of course, I'll even come over to the precinct station with you.

"Danke Dr. Popova." The Lieutenant barely had a case as simple as this before, and the banker was East Ulraznavian! The Lieutenant watched as an ambulance skidded bear them, paramedics rushing out. Two carried a stretcher, while another one carried a bag filled with gel and other such stabilizing machines. The Lieutenant began to time their response. Within 5 minutes, the victim who was now a patient was stabilized and put onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. Seeing as she would probably be needed at the hospital, she grabbed her communicator.

"Gisella…watch the car, I'm heading to the hospital. I'll be back in an hour."

The voice on the other end grumbled. The Lieutenant smirked a little before jumping into the back of the ambulance. The paramedics had just finished and were now watching the patient. Above them, an interactive holo of the patient's body was hovering.

"Step on it Fritz," a paramedic ordered the driver in the front cabin through her tablet. The driver floored the vehicle and turned on the sirens as the ambulance began its journey to Aachen's best Medical Facility.

"Isn't Ziegler on duty today?"

"I sure hope so he is." The paramedic responded.

Meanwhile, back at the scene of the accident, the Taxi driver was banging her head on the steering wheel. An experienced Lady-Inquisitor, she'd seen operations go bad, but this was so spectacular it seemed too unreal.

"What the actual flip happened?" she groaned to the badly disguised Techpriest, "I thought you said there was 0 percent chance of failure." The techpriest waited for a few minutes before speaking, his voice robotic and synthesized.

"IT APPEARS I FAILED TO ACCOUNT FOR THE PRESENCE OF THESE AUTO…. MOBILES."

The inquisitor groaned. The Techpriest spoke again. "NOW…OUR ODDS OF SUCCESS ARE REDUCED TO 30 PERCENT. THE ODDS OF MAJOR DVALLIN LOSING HIS LIPS AND TELLING THE LOCALS OF OUR PRESENCE IS 70 PERCENT. THEREFORE, IT IS IN MY BEST INTEREST THAT THE MISSION DIFFICULTY IS PLACED TO CRIMSON.

"He was a fully trained soldier, Raikos." The Inquisitor turned to look at him. "A fully trained soldier. He's fought Tyranids, Genestealers, Heck even Traitor space marines. And this is his downfall? Struck down by an Archaeotech Automobile?"

The Ad Mech techpriest merely shrugged his shoulders before speaking again. "I NEVER DID THINK THEY WERE A SER-IOUS THR-EAT."

The Inquisitor cursed vehemently, drawing startled looks from passersby at the vicious Gothic profanity. Regaining some composure, she turned back to the oblivious techpriest.

"Contacting the fleet now would only make this fiasco worse," she growled. "The Lord Admiral has enough on his plate directing planetary operations without us crying for help over one compromised agent."

She glared out through the taxi's windows, thinking rapidly. "No, we handle this ourselves. I'll head to the medical facility and see if I can silence the major before he wakes."

The techpriest hummed thoughtfully. "A logical approach. I shall attempt to sanitize the area and remove any traces left behind."

The Inquisitor nodded approvingly. At least the techpriest could adapt on the fly, unlike some hidebound members of the Mechanicus.

"Very good. Secure what you can, then make your way to the safehouse," she ordered. "I'll join you there once I've dealt with our talkative patient."

Raikos inclined his metal head. "Understood. May the motive force of the Omnissiah guide your efforts."

Suppressing an eye roll at the ritual blessing, the Inquisitor slipped out of the parked taxi and headed towards the hospital on foot. She had no clue how to navigate this planet's medical system. But she would find a way to silence the major, for the good of the Imperium.

By guile or force, she would not let their mission be compromised so easily. The blades of the Inquisition cut deepest in the shadows.

This new world would learn that soon enough.

AACHEN GENERAL HOSPITAL.

AACHEN.

ULRAZNAVIA

1990.

Ulraznavian hospitals are some of the most efficient in the world, so the Ulraznavians say. The moment the patient was brought into the emergency room, he was wheeled quickly to the surgical room where Prof. Anton Ziegler and his team performed their medical magic using their training and tools. Meanwhile, the police Lieutenant was currently at the front desk talking with a doctor.

"What was his name again?" the young man asked the lieutenant, who checked her datapad.

"Hieronymus…von der Bocht?" The lieutenant stopped for a minute. That had to be the most Ulraznavian name she had ever heard. "A resident of Aachen, he originally came from the Capital Region, from Salrzgrad, the Capital "

"Really the doctor looked surprised. "He does not look like he's from Salrzgrad, he doesn't even resemble an Ulraznavian. His dental work is extremely bad."

The Lieutenant raised an eyebrow at the doctor's comment. "How so?"

"My wife's from Salrzgrad, I come originally from the east. Viktor Krupa's my name."

"That still doesn't mean he's not Ulraznavian. Maybe he's an immigrant, from the former Eastern Bloc states, you know, Taman, Arakakia, Olechia?" She offered, naming a few of their eastern neighbors. Euronia was a rather weary continent and the mass of immigrants that came to Western Euronia from the former Vostokvakian Sphere of influence after Vostokvakia's democratization was large.

The doctor shook his head. "I don't think so, even the former East Bloc states had access to some of the most advanced tech. Then and again, we see many strange things at the hospital."

The Lieutenant thought about this for one minute. "Can I see the victim's belongings?" The doctor nodded, motioning for the lieutenant to follow him. They walked down a sterile corridor, heading to a door. Flashing his access card, he beckoned her in. Inside, there was only an orderly, and various empty drawers. He pointed at an empty table which was only occupied by the man's belongings. The jacket, the shirt, a large Manila envelope, and a Datatape. It was a type of physical storage media for different kinds of data. The tape itself, a continuous narrow, flexible strip, was stored on reels inside a protective shell. This one, the lieutenant saw, was a Monomolecular-switching binary tape like the ones used by the Ulraznavian Military that had a 512-million-exanode capacity.

She inspected the envelope. It seemed to be a regular old envelope. There was a 10-mark stamp on it and seemed to have come from Stuttgart yesterday. The Lieutenant was a naturally curious type, one of the reasons she became a policeman after her service. Taking out her penknife she began to cut the envelope. Neither the orderly nor the doctor objected, this was a Police officer after all. A large and two smaller envelopes fell out. She checked the larger one first. First, she saw a diagram. It looked ordinary enough. That is until she saw that it was a photocopy of an Ulraznavian Army document stamped Geheim, Secret. Then the name: Lammersdorf. She was holding a map of an OFN communications headquarters mere 30 miles from where she stood. She checked the smaller ones. The lieutenant also happened to have a billet in the Abwehr, being a captain in the reserves. She grabbed the Datatape and headed to a comms terminal. The only thing left was a single question. Who was Hieronymus von der Bocht?

ROTA, IBERIA.

Lt Commander Bob Toland, Concordian navy arrived to a relatively warm place. Dismounting the transport jet, he and a few passengers were directed by sailors to their destination. Toland was pointed towards an already primed helicopter that would take him to his destination, the CCNS Nimitz aircraft carrier. Toland saw that it was a Sea King ASW helicopter. The crew chief, also the sonar operator was fiddling with her equipment. He silently took his seat. Within minutes, the helicopter was flying to its destination. His first trip to Iberia had lasted only 20 minutes. And as always, the atmosphere was filled by those floating cathedrals.

His wife wasn't too happy that he was heading into a combat zone. After all, he was just a CIA analyst. But one absolutely DID not disobey Rear Admiral Patrick King. And that was how he was now here, on a flight deck.

"You Toland?" A voice broke him out of his reverie. He saw a rather frazzled-looking officer standing above him, and man was the guy stressed.

"Yup, that's me, unless the time zones changed." Toland stood up. The officer took a drink from his canteen.

"You want the good news or the bad news." The man asked through gulps.

"Bad news."

The officer screwed his canteen shut. "Few berths for us intel types, you'll have a hot bunk."

Toland suppressed a groan as the harried officer informed him he'd be hot-bunking - sharing a bed in shifts with another crewmate. Not exactly the private quarters he'd been envisioning on the state-of-the-art supercarrier.

"No problem, I've roughed it plenty before," he replied, forcing optimism into his tone. A little white lie - his CIA analyst gig was a far cry from the cramped racks of a warship.

The officer gave him a wry look that said he wasn't fooled. "Uh-huh. Well, just park your gear in the communal berthing area for now. We're packed to the gills as is."

He checked his clipboard distractedly. "Oh, almost forgot - the good news. You get to meet Admiral King himself. He wanted to personally brief the new intel team."

Toland perked up at that. A chance to rub shoulders with the legendary commander of the Second Fleet? That took some of the sting off his lackluster accommodations.

"Lead the way then," he told the officer. "And go easy on the coffee, you look jittery enough already."

That got a laugh from the man. "Yeah, tell me about it. This alien invasions got us all on edge..."

He headed below decks, Toland following. The CIC was humming with activity, but Toland only had eyes for the distinguished older man studying a display at its center - Admiral King himself. Time to see what role he'd play in defeating these invaders.

AACHEN, ULRAZNAVIA.

"Hieronymus von der Bocht" woke up 5 Hours later in a sterile room. Surrounding him were 3 men, or was one of them a woman? He still had not recovered from the anesthetics and his eyes couldn't focus.

"Ach. So, you are finally awake." A voice said, strangely it felt like the voice had come in his mind.

"Wha…what happened...I..I was hi.."

"Relax… You are in an infirmerium in the safehouse." The voice spoke in perfect low Gothic. Which shouldn't have been possible. These Tek-Heretics did not speak Gothic…did they?

"I must admit, your interest in Lammersdorf is most strange. Why on earth would you want to visit an OFN ACE Communications facility when Aachen has so much more to offer?"

"I…You'll never get anything from me…Dark Age Hereteks." Major Andre Dvallin said, though his voice came out like that of a drunken man. What had they done to him?

"It's a shame really…an experienced officer like you, and you can't see a single automobile. Your uh…Inquisitor friend told us info most willingly. Even as we speak a top-secret "Cocktail" is in your bloodstream, you'll be singing if we order you too.

"How did you learn Gothic."

"I am bioresonant. It was easy enough to learn once I saw through your mind." the voice said flippantly.

What on earth was a bioresonant? The Major thought. "I...I..." he broke down, the cocktail overcoming him. "We were going to disable certain facilities of this "OFN" Then we would have waited as an Imperial armoured spearhead pushed through our already occupied territories from this uh "Frank fort."

Dvallin groaned as the drug cocktail compelled him to spill Imperial secrets, his interrogator prying effortlessly into his mind. Dimly he realized these "bioresonants" could somehow read thoughts and memories directly. A frightening prospect.

"We...we sought to cripple command infrastructure, sow chaos to aid the main invasion," he slurred helplessly. The truth tumbled out in a torrent.

"Frankfurt already pacified...armored divisions massing...push towards Paris then the channel..." The more he revealed, the more hopeless resistance seemed. What force could stand against warriors that could see into your very mind?

His interrogator chuckled, seemingly plucking facts and plans from Dvallin's addled brain. "My my, your Imperium has been busy since arriving. Though I'm afraid we Ulraznavians have a few surprises in store."

Dvallin sagged, betrayed by his own mind. He had failed the Emperor completely.

The interrogator patted his shoulder in mock sympathy. "There, don't look so glum. You've been most helpful, major." He slid a cigarette between Dvallin's limp fingers. "Have a smoke, relax. The drug will wear off shortly."

Dvallin simply stared, despairing. He had thought their campaign unstoppable, blessed by the divine Emperor. But these heretics had turned his beliefs upside down with frightening ease.

As darkness claimed him, one question echoed - what other dangers lurked on this strange, advanced world? For the first time, doubt gnawed within Dvallin's mind about their "holy" mission here.

COMPLEX BENEATH SALRZGRAD

"Therefore, sirs and ladies, our Bioresonant was able to gain a large amount of information on this Battlefleet Scolaris. We should get a join team of Edenite SAS and GSG-9 to attack the safehouse of these commandos. "Colonel Weber looked at the arrayed faces of Ulraznavia's leadership, the President, various officers, and politicians.

"What of Ulrich Wegener and his 1st Panzergrenadierdivision "Berzerker" A politician asked about Ulraznavia's elite commando division.

"Frau Minister, the last message that Wegener sent us was that he and 2 regiments of his Berzerker's were in Schutzzone Germania. 3 other regiments are currently in Pomerania, giving hell to these invaders."

"So what is the situation of the nation, what commands are we in contact with." Another one asked.

Weber opened the projector. "As off now, most of our armed forces are scattered, while we issue commands from Salrzgrad, said commands are often followed by units that are totally cut off from us. Sirs and ladies what we are witnessing is the Third Great War, Bloodier than the other two. And the fate of our entire planet is at stake." The projector opened, showing the state of the military. While the 3 main armed forces were doing pretty well, as well as they could against an extraterrestrial threat, it was the state of the Bundesgarde and Volksgarde units that were facing some of the worst.

Commands of the Bundesgarde

Freikorps "Berzerker"

The elite Speidel-aligned forces of the 1st Panzergrenadierdivision "Berzerker", have continued to hold out in Pomerania and in the city of Germania. The 1st Panzergrenadier Division, Ulraznavia's chief special forces and counter-terrorism unit, comprises some of the most elite soldiers in Ulraznavia. It's even said that each member of the Beserkers is worth a dozen of the enemy.

Commander-Ulrich Wegener

BSS-Oberabschnitt WestfalenTr. BSS Main District Westphalia

A Bundesgarde command in Westphalia headed by the newly promoted Obergruppenführer Edda Klingenberg.

Kommandostab Waffen-BSSTr. Command Staff Waffen-Bundesgarde

A Waffen-BSS command based in Posen. Within the Kommandostab's territory is the Posen Railway Junction, designed to facilitate transportation between Ulraznavia and its eastern regions. Although much of its impressiveness has been lost after the Ulraznavian Civil War destroyed most of its access to the East, it's still a crucial railway junction that provides helpful transportation throughout the Kommandostab's territory.

Schlesischer IndustriebundTr. Silesian Industrial Group

The Gaue of Upper and Lower Silesia under the leadership of Gauleiter and BSS-Gruppenführer Karl Dryden.

Leibstandarte President der Föderation.

The forces of the 1st BSS Panzer Division garrisoned along the Francovian-Ulraznavian border in Alsace-Lorraine, shielding Ulraznavia.

Commander-Dietrich Kalb

Angriffsgruppe Kohl

The isolated and temporarily cut off forces under BSS commander Felix Kohl consisted of a mix of Reichswehr, Volksgarde and BSS troops.

Eastern Commands-

Ulraznavian Eastern Command

An Ulraznavian military government headquartered in Poliznaya was formed after the Revolution of 1916. Led by the Eastern Command, they have hunkered down in Chernytsin, the capital of Galicia-Lodomeria

Grevyakin-Headquarters of the Greater Ruthenian Military District, Greater Ruthenia

The leadership stared at the slideshow, no expression on their faces. The situation was neither good, nor entirely bad. The president stared at the map. A few pools of red showed the enemies landing zones, and the way it cutoff so many units. What stood out to him was Germania. The city that had become a showplace to Ulraznavia's technological might. After the defeat of the Wostria in the 2nd Great War, The Confederation of Concordia and the Socialist Coalition of Vostokvakia had divided up Euronia as the Cold War began. Ulraznavia, had chosen neutrality, and had watched through a lot of close calls. Then, in 1946 the great technological revolution began. To put it simply, things that were once Sci-Fi were now real, that was how all the high-tech stuff in the world was, powered by unique power sources. Germania was the personal pet project of Ulraznavia's Armaments minister, Albert Speer. After the war, the President of the Federation had given him a significant amount of money, it was the last thing he did before the Ulraznavian Federation was dissolved in favour of a more centralized system, the Federal Republic of Ulraznavia. So, the city became Ulraznavia's showplace, a center pf technology. Aside from that, it seemed bleak, everything seemed bleak.

COLOGNE.

ULRAZNAVIA
DAY-2

June 3rd, 1995.

Cologne was a dead city. Its inhabitants had fled, leaving only the Ulraznavian army to defend the city, and it had become a meatgrinder, swallowing up soldiers and material quicker than they could put them on the ground. And now it was the sight of one of the bloodiest urban warfare since the Second Great War. The air was thick with smoke and helicopters. The Ulraznavian defenders had found one critical weakness in the invaders' tactics and were exploiting it at the highest level. The Focke-Achgelis Fa-531 was considered by many to be a worthy equal of Concordia's UH-1 Huey. A design from the 60s, the helicopter had been upgraded so many times that it was still the most numerous troop transport helicopter in Ulraznavian service. The Ulraznavians had decided to take a page out of the Concordians' book and improve on the "Air-Cav and Air mobility" concept that was so famous from Concordia's Tonkin War in the Southeast Erusea region of said continent of Erusea. The North had won the war, but the concept remained a cult classic in the eyes of the public.

The invaders lacked quick mobility and response and would find themselves attacked by quick-moving enemies. The 16 infantrymen in the helicopters would quickly fight them, hopping from one firefight to another. Not that Imperial General Markos Driven cared, he was seriously under a lot of pressure.

"Sir, 211st regiment reports enemy infantry has flanked them."

"391st has hostiles right on top of em."

General Driven gripped the edges of the tactical display, knuckles white as more frantic reports flooded in. Their armored spearheads were being picked apart by swarms of enemy rotorcraft and infantry, striking and fading like ghosts.

"Emperor protect us, how are they doing this?!" he rasped, eyes darting wildly over the shifting front lines. "We advance and they're gone, we halt and they strike from nowhere!"

His staff officers exchanged helpless looks. They had no answer - this style of warfare was alien to them.

Another explosion sounded nearby as a concealed enemy rocket team ambushed a Leman Russ tank. Driven slammed his fists down.

"Damn these backward heathens and their cowardly hit-and-run tactics!" he spat. Spittle flew as he ranted. "Is there not one of you who can counter them?!"

But he could see the growing doubt and fear in their eyes and knew his authority was crumbling. The capitaine had no miracles to save them from the guerrilla onslaught.

As the situation deteriorated, Driven felt himself unraveling. Their advance had shattered against the reality of fluid modern warfare. Everything he knew was useless here.

"I...I don't understand..." he stammered, the veneer of command stripped away to reveal raw confusion beneath. "How? Our cause is just, the Emperor is with us..."

Driven gripped the edges of the tactical display so hard his knuckles turned white, sweat beading on his forehead as the frantic reports from his regiments came in. This battle made no sense - they were the mighty Astra Militarum of the God-Emperor, yet these heathens harried them at every turn.

"How... how is this possible?!" he sputtered, eyes bulging. "Armored companies...outmaneuvered by mere rotorcraft? Emperor protect us..."

His staff officers gave him uneasy sidelong glances as he rambled on, discipline fraying. Driven was unraveling before their eyes.

"My Lord, the 78th can reinforce the flank if we pull back the reserve company..." one junior officer began before Driven cut him off with a chop of his hand.

"No, damn you, we stand and fight!" he shouted, face purpling. "No retreat, no surrender! Call up another battalion of Conscripts, we will drown them in blood and bodies!"

The staff officers shuffled awkwardly at his shrill ranting. This was no seasoned commander of men - just a political appointee whose string-pulling had secured him a general's bars. And now his incompetence was lethal.

As Driven prattled on, he suddenly gasped, hands flying to his chest. Face twisting in agony, he toppled forward onto the display, scattering marker pieces everywhere. Aides rushed to him but it was too late - the man was dead before he hit the floor.

In the stunned silence that followed, the ranking staff officer straightened up. "I am assuming command," he announced crisply. "Get me unit statuses and ammunition reports."

Driven's rigid doctrine had failed them. But perhaps flexibility and pragmatism could yet win the day.

Sister Angela Sabriya

Order of the Valorous Heart

Angela and her squad crept along the utilitarian apartment building, crouched. Sister Superior Celestia took out a small mirror from her armor pocket and raised it above the window.

Bang! The glass exploded into shards as it was struck by a slug. Her hypothesis was correct, she quickly made a hand gesture, and everyone went flat on their stomachs and began to crawl. Behind Angela, little Ayla Sabriya crawled behind her mother in the small camo uniform of a Schola Progenium Student. Celestia waited before the entire squad crawled into a room. Angela, being the last one grabbed Ayla rushed in, and slammed the door shut. Once inside, everyone gave a collective sigh of relief.

"That was close…too close." Latia put her heavy bolter down before opening up her canteen and taking a swig.

"Agreed." Celestia checked around the room, which was as utilitarian and grey as the rest of them. Unfamiliar technology littered the room, she made no attempt to touch it. Angela merely took off her helmet, and undid her bun, letting her dark brown hair fall loose around her shoulders.

"This must have been a pretty nice place…shame we have to fight street by street to get it." Agatha mused.

"I know right." Maria set herself next to her after comforting Mayleena. "Especially that cathedral. It's a Beut." They watched as far away, rotorcraft rumbled.

"Say, what do the rebels call this city again?" Latia asked.

"Cologne, or Koln in the native language." Mayleena quietly spoke up for the first time, the younger girl looking pale and lost. Angela burst out laughing. The rest of the squad, and her daughter stared at her in disbelief.

"What the hell's so funny?" Celestia asked unimpressed.

"I…I'm sorry…it's just…Cologne, these guys called their city…perfume!" And she was beset with another wave of laughter.

The tense atmosphere finally broke as Angela dissolved into laughter at the translation of the city's name. Even the normally stoic Celestia cracked a grin, shaking her head ruefully.

"Cologne... as in perfume, are you serious?" Latia guffawed. "What kind of name is that for a battlefield?"

Little Ayla giggled too, her mother's mirth infectious. The mood lightened as the absurdity of their situation sank in.

"I guess we can't judge too much," Maria chuckled. "Plenty of weird names back home too. At least it's easy to remember."

Agatha absently cleaned her flamer nozzle. "Makes me wonder what they call other cities here. 'Toilet Water'? 'Old Gym Socks'?" That elicited more tired laughter.

Celestia let them enjoy the moment before turning serious again. "Amusing as it is, eyes sharp sisters. We move out in five." She peered out the cracked window. "Emperor willing, we'll secure this 'Cologne' soon."

Angela scooped up her gear, merriment fading. Back to the grind. She gave Ayla's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Stay close to me out there, okay sweetie? We've got a perfume shop to take."

The girl nodded, holding her little auto gun tightly. And they crept out one by one, dodging the sniper and reaching a lift that could actually work. Reaching the ground floor, they trooped through the abandoned lobby and walked out. Outside they were met by a squad of Cadian Kasrkin's. "Thank the sweet emperor, we finally meet some friendly's." the leader, a sergeant intoned, his voice synthesized through his mask and helmet.

"What's the situation, Guardsmen?" Celestia asked.

"Not good…me and my squad are the only survivors…these rebs have good air support."

"The hell you mean good air support?" Latia asked the tired man.

In response, the man pointed to the sky. "Me and my squad were supportin an entire platoon of Guardsmen. We were comin' here when out of the sky comes a four-engined aircraft, real big…looked primitive." The man gave a chuckle.

Celestia nodded for the man to continue. He began to speak again. "We were with the 2456th Valhallan Ice Warriors Regiment. Leadin' them alongside the officers was an Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus and a Commissar. We were bringing up the rear. We'd already lost Jeffery, and a Magos of the Ad Mech and his entire retinue…and this thing flying in the sky starts firing." He took a drink out of his canteen.

"The Commissar and Inquisitor are the first to go, just disappear in red mist. The Valhallans began to run, We and a few of the Valhallans duck behind cover. The rest of them start going forward while a few others tried to find cover. The whole goddam thing lasted two minutes…longest minutes of my life."

It was at that moment that the Sororitas squad saw that a group of Valhallans in their fur Ushanka's and greatcoats was coming up. Some of them were bloodied with bandages, others looked more or less in one piece. Some had taken off the greatcoats and hats and replaced it with a cloth side cap.

"Who's in charge, what's your name? Celestia asked them.

"That'll be me…Mischa Pushkin at your service." A dour-looking Guardsman answered. "This is Alina Starkov." He pointed to a bloodied-up girl in uniform holding a lasgun.

Celestia nodded tersely as Sergeant Pushkin introduced himself and his battered Valhallan squad. She could tell these ice world soldiers had been through hell already in this bizarre city.

"We need to get off the streets, regroup somewhere secure," she told Pushkin. "Do you know anywhere we can hole up nearby?"

Pushkin grimaced. "Negative. This damn Köln is a maze and death trap both. We've just been trying to avoid getting vaped by their gunships."

He jerked a thumb at the Kasrkin sergeant. "Our friend here says some primitive-looking four-engine beast did the damage. Never saw anything like it."

The Kasrkin spat angrily. "Could barely glimpse the damn thing through the smoke. Just roared in overhead and shredded us with some heavy autocannon or rotary deal. Was on us before we could react."

Alina spoke up softly, sadness in her eyes. "The commissar and inquisitor were obliterated first. Then it chewed through most of our platoon in seconds. Horrible..." She suppressed a shudder.

Celestia squeezed the girl's shoulder sympathetically. "We'll make their sacrifice worth it. For now, stay sharp and look for any building we can fortify."

No more useless banter or laughing now. The locals' air power changed things. They had to get to safety and rethink their strategy for seizing Köln.

Celestia sent up a quick prayer to the Emperor for guidance. The battle for this strangely named city was far from over.

Another Red Storm Rising Reference, heck the entire incident is based on the one from Red Storm rising.