Chapter 9
...
How in the hell could she be so stupid!
Why in the hell couldn't humans be slimy, disgusting? Not dual gendered asari lookalikes without the creepy mind melding and tendrils…
Not only had she kissed an alien, but it was a primitive alien to top it off… and to think she actually liked what she did. That she actually enjoyed the taste of him, despite her rational side screaming at her that this was a very, VERY bad idea.
No... No wait, no that was wrong; she didn't like it!
It was his fault for exposing himself! It was his fault for being charming! It was his fault for respecting her boundaries time after time! It was his fault for allowing her hands to wander, exploring his strong, soft skinned body, barely covering extremely tense muscles that were buried just under skin, the scars littering his body, badges of his bravery, from fighting in this war to standing up to an abusive father…
Captain Hanala'Jarva silently shook her senses back in order. If her parents saw her now, they would undoubtedly disown her right there and then. She was supposed to be a ship captain, someone who commanded respect, not quivering at the sight of some stupid, primitive, five fingered male asari with a mean temper, an ego and could unexpectedly surprise her with an unexpected level of honesty. She had never met someone so-
DAMMIT! NOT AGAIN!
She stopped her march and turned, briskly she knocked on his door. It took no more than a moment before the door flew open and there stood Hoch, thankfully properly dress. Not that it helped her much. The moment he clued in it was her, this tight frown shaped into that smile of his, that charming smile that made her kiss him in the first place…. manipulative Bosh'tet.
Hanala cleared her throat. She would get this over with. She would put a stop to this now before it got out of hand any more than it already had.
"Obersturmbannführer Joachim'Hoch."
The smile Joachim had almost vanished at the usage of his rank and surname. Though it faltered briefly it was back in a heartbeat. It was a far less pleasant smile then the one he had instinctively greeted her with it. This time it was more calculated... as though he knew exactly what he was doing.
"Captain Jarva, is there something I can help you with?" Hoch asked curiously as he fastened on his gear.
The quarian nodded her head.
"Yes."
They stood there in the doorway, as they did last night this time very luckily for her, Joachim was dressed back up into his full gear, leaving her almost nothing to imagine... except for his arms which were revealed by him rolling up his sleeves, Arms that could probably toss her around quite easily, into his bed for instanc-.
"Come on in... back into my room, I suppose," Joachim spoke, breaking the silence filled with some thoughts she swore she would not have.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she murmured as Hoch turned away to find his rifle.
With his assault rifle in hand, Hoch turned back and blinked, the smiling grin frozen on his face as he watched her. Hanala suppressed all her urges to re-enact last night and allow herself to kiss the man again.
"Excuse me?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Hanala repeated, her voice high, her arms still crossed defiantly as she stared at the man standing before her. "I spent last night alone in my quarters cleaning the sand and dirt out of my rifle and sleeping. Whatever you believe happened last night never happened… and I would like it if remembered that. "
"So... you looking for me in my room-"
"Never happened…" Hanala reminded him, cutting him off completely.
It was Joachim's turn to cross his arms, much less defiantly and much more humored by her behavior.
"You feeling me up?" he inquired, looking close to laughing in her face.
She shook her head clearly in denial.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He was smiling now, why did he have to smile. Why couldn't he just take a hint that the path they had unwittingly stumbled onto was a bad path to continue down… how in the hell could they have a relationship? Dammit, why was she even thinking about a relationship with him?
"You kissing me?" the human pressed. He was obviously aware of what he was doing now.
"I think you may have been drinking. I would not know, I was in my quarters... asleep…" Hanala retorted as quickly as he once more reminded her of what had happened and just how much more she wanted to do it.
"… and cleaning your gun…" Hoch tacked on, looking as though he was shaking with unexpressed laughter at her expense. Hanala nodded her head vigorously; Hoch it seemed was getting the point.
"And cleaning my gun," Hanala agreed, repeating his words almost happily. He was getting it!
Hoch nodded his head. Still grinning at her, he turned away to collect his helmet from off his table.
"Are you certain?" Hoch politely asked as he pulled his helmet over his head. "I could have sworn that woman with odd hands; bright eyes and pale skin came to my room last night."
Hanala groaned, her hand hitting her face.
"Again, as stated beforehand," Hanala reminded him yet again. "That has never happened."
She glanced up and found those pretty blue eyes of his staring at her, a stupid looking smile on his lips... as if he had been undressing her with his eyes.
"Don't look at me like that," she muttered mutinously, it was the only reaction she could give without breaking down and admitting something that didn't happen.
Yes. It didn't happen.
Still the human stared at her as though she was the problem. Was he purposely trying to drive her mad so that she would confess to something that officially hadn't happened between the two of them? Whatever his intentions were, it was certainly working both breaking her resolve and making her infuriated.
"I said, don't give me that look!" She once again hissed, this time however, her voice actually cracked. Hanala's hand flew over her mouth as she ducked her flushed face from out of his line of sight.
"Alright then, Captain Jarva," Hoch said with barely concealed glee as he twisted the knife in her. "Rommel is waiting for us."
Fighting back the blush, she looked up to him. He was no longer looking at her like she was something delectable, instead he was impassive, and his seriousness instilled by his training and rank was finally fixed on his expression.
Hanala nodded shyly, following as he stepped forward and out of his room. There was a terse silence between the two of them before Hoch spoke again.
"So... since you weren't in my room, can you explain why I had this lip shaped mark puffed up on my skin?" Hoch casually asked. "Itchy as hell... thought you might know something about it. I'm pretty certain Fuhrmann isn't to blame for it."
Hanala groaned and made her way to leave. She was stopped by Hoch, who grabbed her arm and prevented her from leaving.
"Captain, this is between just us," Hoch said, his voice lowering to a tone a little more trustworthy. "I understand the need to unwind from after action stress. We all have our coping mechanisms, and I won't tease you anymore about yours.
As he released her, Hanala rubbed her wrist and examined him. Without any words, she simply nodded. That would have to do.
...
...
Castle Wewelsburg
Büren, Germany
Gerald Langer always felt Wewelsburg a home away from home. Too bad he rarely was granted much time to spend here.
Between his work and his family, leisure time in the castle, chosen by Paul Himmler as the resting spot for all of the SS brass became a rarity to enjoy. As much as he wanted this visit to be one of light relaxation, he was here on business that was vital to the success of the quarian diplomacy process.
The English knew what was happening.
Well maybe not all the details... the Gestapo cell monitoring the O5 uncovered the plot a day or so ago and had just reported it in. It was a raid to take down Hoch's operations in Vienna. Blasted son of a bitches, each and every Englishman, how could a nation of tea drinking faggots led by a fat drunken slob still be standing this long into the war? Something was seriously wrong with that.
So here he was in Germany again. He took the next transport plane back to the Büren and drove through the night to get to Himmler in the morning. If Himmler was even here, he was a busy man these days, of course. The occupation of Europe had led to all sorts of new challenges he had to oversee.
"I see that you have arrived, Standartenführer Langer. Welcome."
Langer's blood froze as the nearly mechanical voice belonging to that of Obersturmbannführer Adolf Eichmann greeted him. Langer turned and faced the man, Immaculate as usual; his face looked as though he was forcing himself to smile for his fellow SS officer. Eichmann offered his a salute, which Langer snapped out in turn.
Eichmann may have been a lower rank to him, but he was Heydrich's protégé. In some ways Eichmann was much more frightening then Heydrich. Heydrich was a dreamer; Eichmann was a cold, impersonal and practical man. He had a machinelike quality in his resolve to make Heydrich's dreams a reality. He saw to all the details to make Heydrich's vision a reality.
Eichmann stood there silently, smiling a grim smile that did not meet his eyes as he gestured to the direction the two of them were heading to.
"Come and join me," Eichmann welcomed, ushering the older man to follow him. "I presume you're here to see Reichsführer Himmler? You're in luck, we have him here."
Langer nodded wordlessly. Eichmann accepted the response and pressed on his questioning.
"How is your family?" Adolf asked as his hollow eyes burned into Langer's.
Langer sighed at the mention of his family. He had been gone for no more than half a day and he already missed them. Not that he would ever admit it. Especially not in front of Eichmann, who was an expert in worming information out of people.
"They're fine, thank you," Langer spoke, gathering as much charm as he had left to block his feelings "I would have brought them, but I could not pry them away from Vienna, however."
Eichmann laughed much more cheerfully then Gerald had expected.
"I cannot blame them, nor can you, Herr Langer," the junior officer spoke with a strange warmth. "Winter in Austria… Well, there are few better places to be. As you are aware I'm Austrian. I would love to be back home this winter, but alas I must work."
Langer nodded and smiled back as Eichmann stopped in front of a door pulled it open, gesturing Langer in. The room was bright and big. There were two occupants in the room already. One was short and thin, while the other was almost a giant.
"All in all, the conference was a success; everyone was in agreement and will cooperate fully with us. There was some major dissent with Friedrich Kritzinger, but he has fallen into line. Eichmann will present you with the details as we continue."
"Will he be trouble?"
"He raised a great deal of objections, but by the end of the meeting he fell back in line with the rest. I think he had an understandable adverse reaction to the project. He had been assured it wasn't happening, so it was all a big shock. He won't be a problem to our activities."
"It may be for the best that we keep an eye on Kritzinger. I've gotten word he has threatened to resign his post in private conversations. It would raise a lot of questions if he goes through with his threat.. "
Eichmann cleared his throat, breaking the conversation up and catching the two men's attention. The smaller man's face broke into a bright smile as he found one of the old guard had returned to his side. The presence of Langer meant one thing to the man as he approached, his hand outstretched. It meant they would be discussing the fascinating new find made by Hoch and him.
"Gerald Langer, I am so glad that you have made it!" the spectacle wearing man greeted, taking Langer's hand and shaking it firm.
Langer bowed his head respectfully to Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler, his hand dropping to his side.
"I'm grateful you're fine with me gracing your beautiful castle, Reichsführer. Thank you for seeing me," Langer complimented, looking around. He did not notice the interrogating look he was getting.
"Nonsense, Standartenführer. Wewelsburg is a second home to any involved in special projects and you are now a part of a small elite group," the tallest man of the spoke, stepping forward to offer his hand. "Congratulations on your discovery... Quarians… a species that traveled the stars to make contact with us exclusively… it's... fascinating. Clearly they have made the right choice."
Reinhard Heydrich - The Protector of Bohemia and Moravia, the Blonde Beast, the Hangman of Prague... The head of INTERPOL much to the distress of the nation's standing against them. He had many titles and all of them were well earned. He was tall, charming to the men who answered to him and the women who fell into his insatiable appetite for flesh. He was the picture of Aryan strength and an intelligence that was to be underestimated at one's own peril.
"Thank you, Obergruppenführer Heydrich," Langer returned, shaking the hand offered to him firmly. "Though the discovery is not just mine to take sole credit for."
"Yes, Joachim Hoch, and how fairs his mission to North Africa?" Himmler spoke again, taking a seat on the closest seat, his hands idly straightening out his uniform.
Heydrich's expression grinned feral.
"North Africa?" Heydrich repeated, trying to sound causal about the intentions of the younger man. "I suppose your Hoch will be on the next boat to Italy if the Afrika Korps has their way. I should know. They've done it to my expeditions before."
"I've gotten no word from him, but for now, I must speak to you on a matter of grave importance," Langer returned taking a breath as the occupants of the room stared at him. Slowly, reluctantly he added. "Our operations in Vienna have been compromised."
Reichsführer Himmler's eyes narrowed at him from behind his round framed glasses, the cool casual look on Heydrich's face was quickly eroding away. Eichmann remained distant. He was standing silently near a wall, a drink in his hands as he absorbed the information.
"The Gestapo has infiltrated the O5 cell in Vienna," Langer spoke again, hoping to keep Heydrich from exploding. "It appears that they have been watching our moves around the museum closer than most other. They've reported to British intelligence. They're preparing for a raid."
If he had expected Heydrich to remain cool when he received this new information, he was mistaken. There were two sides of the man - one was a cool, rational, charismatic man. The other was a violently angry creature if something ever fell out of his control.
Today Langer would deal with the latter.
"How could you be so careless?" Heydrich hissed, looming high over the smaller older man. His hands clenched as though he wanted to wrap his hands around the Standartenführer's neck. Himmler looked amused as he watched Heydrich approached Langer, who prepared himself. A small cough came from the corner of the room, snapping Heydrich's near feral rage away from Langer to focus on his right hand man.
"What?" he growled furiously at his friend. Adolf Eichmann only smirked.
"This is no one's fault Reinhard," Eichmann called from the distance, pushing off against the wall. "Reading the reports, I imagine it would be hard to drag a machine the size of a U-boat to a popular museum without anyone seeing it. Langer followed our instructions to the letter, but the plan was flawed from the beginning. We will simply have to adapt."
Looking to Eichmann, Himmler nodded. The Reichsführer's hand reaching up and falling on the furious younger man's shoulder.
"Eichmann is correct, Heydrich," Himmler spoke up before Heydrich had a chance to retort to Eichmann. "This was to be expected. All we can do now is to ensure our secrets remain ours until the time is right to reveal."
Himmler turned back to Langer, who went rigid. Himmler smiled thinly, as though to calm the worried Standartenführer down.
"I'll speak with Bittrich and see if I can have elements of Das Reich to be pulled from France," Himmler decided his voice thoughtful. "They will reinforce the guard. Perhaps it may even convince the English to abandon this operation in the first place."
Langer nodded, it sounded like a plan, and Hoch's past with 2nd Waffen-SS Panzer Division would come in handy. As for the sneering example of German power, Heydrich seemed almost pacified by this suggestion. He was still very much angered by the situation that was unfolding beyond his power, but he attempted to steady himself. There was something else to it. He seemed... strange… almost as though this operation should have been his. It would not be a shock if that was the case. There was always a scramble for power in the SS.
"Herr Reichsführer... might I make a suggestion for you to consider?"
Himmler, Heydrich and Langer turned to the lowest ranked man in the room. Adolf Eichmann had stepped forward from the wall; a strange smile made his skull like features more pronounced then it had been before.
"With all due respect, Reichsführer. Moving in a Waffen-SS division to fortify a peaceful city would be too blunt, too wasteful and much, much too expected," Eichmann spoke once more, his voice chilling Langer. "It's exactly what the English see us as, ether as brutes or ignorant. They prepare specifically to fight numbers, not quality."
Himmler seemed to be absorbing what the Obersturmbannführer was speaking about. Heydrich however was turned away, fixing all of them fresh drinks.
"We should let them come," Eichmann pressed on as Himmler accepted a drink from Reinhard. "Allow O5 to exist until the attack is on the doorsteps of the museum… then we pounce."
"Making an example their commandos and collaborators so close to completing their assignment," Heydrich spoke up finishing his subordinates thoughts, his back turned. "It would send a clear warning to English that they will not be able to act with impunity in our territory for any longer."
"We could hold trials for the collaborators," Langer put his two cents in. "The Austrians would probably want to hang the traitors themselves. It would warn our people about the English planning on desecrating our monuments to deter us..."
Eichmann nodded and fell silent, still with that haunting smile for the group. Langer accepted a drink from 'The Hangman of Prague.' Himmler ushered his subordinates to join him on the fine furniture surrounding a beautiful oak coffee table.
"So let them come, and set a trap," Himmler concluded, nearly smiling himself as he sipped his drink. "I like it, Eichmann... It's just what we need."
As he sat, Adolf Eichmann did his best not to look too pleased with himself.
"We'll need someone to organize the trap," Himmler spoke again as Langer and Eichmann settled around him comfortably. "We need someone... unconventional. Someone who'll throw the English off by playing their game as well as they can."
Heydrich smirked slightly, looking at his glass as he swirled the contents of his drink.
"Otto Skorzeny," was his answer.
Himmler and Langer looked up to Heydrich as he approached. Eichmann, however, kept his eyes ahead, staring off like he was lost.
"I beg your pardon?" Himmler asked, somewhat intrigued looking by the suggestion made by his second-in-command.
"Untersturmführer Otto Skorzeny," Heydrich repeated, joining them on the furniture. "He's on duty in France right now. He's a man who can get things done. He's one of Ernst Kaltenbrunner's boys and as much as I hate having to deal with that miserable lush, I won't deny he has an eye for talent."
Eichmann nodded approvingly.
"As I recall, before that foolish idiot Rundstedt ordered a general retreat Skorzeny received commands from the Führer to flood Moscow," Eichmann informed the group. "He was days from doing it before the Heer retreated like cowards, leaving SS to clean up the mess."
Himmler rubbed his chin, as though contemplating the candidate set forth, finally he leaned back his eyes scanning each of the men surrounding him.
"If they send wolves to fight us, we had best have a hunter to exterminate them."
The men clinked their glasses, a wordless toast to the Führer, the fatherland, the Aryan race and finally to the soon-to-be quarian allies who would give them final victory over the Bolshevik hordes and the Jew controlled west.
...
...
Cruiser Kareon
Sol System Mass Relay
"Admiral, we've entered the system... four hours until we reach Earth. Admiral Jarva called in; the fleet will arrive in the week. He and the rest of the Admiralty Board will rendezvous with us in two days."
Admiral Jalina'Calis vas Kareon nodded her head fragilely. Each of her eighty nine years of life very present with her as her bones ached. She was the last of the original Admiralty Board. A pariah of the original five, her plans involved less combat and more biding their time. This plan, uplifting a species was her brainchild since the first days of the exile.
There was no more conceivable way for the quarians to fight the geth even unconventionally. The only answer she had left was finding help. But from who? No Citadel race would help them. As far as the rest of the civilized galaxy was concerned the quarians punishment was just. The near extermination of their people well earned.
Just as all hope was lost and came in the form of a species known as humans.
For a decade, she spent it studying them, watching as they continued their lives, ignorant to the many eyes watching their every move, listening to their every important conversation. Through all the chaos on Earth she watched as a starving and sick nation elected a leader and in less than six years, transformed it into an emerging superpower, making leaps and bounds beyond anyone's expectation. She watched, with some sense of pride as this little nation defied the world and took what belong to them.
Many aware to the discovery of humans were much less enthusiastic about this nation. They felt it too volatile, too totalitarian, and much too militaristic. But those who stood against this nation seemed to always be the same people who were content with allowing their people to die in exile, allow them to become a galactic joke, a warning about progress and a call to remain stagnant.
But those voices dissenting the uplifting were quickly silenced as one day they watched this small nation suddenly and completely conquer almost their entire continent in a matter of months with a military efficiency of that of the turians. Suddenly the idea of assisting this people and bringing them into the fold so that one day they could wage a war against the geth became realistic.
This country, this National Socialist Germany… they were rough around the edges, but with time, it was almost for certain that this people could be brought forth to the galaxy as a well-adjusted race. Time and nurture could help keep the humans from turning into the krogans.
But... she would not get to see it.
Now, she was at her dying days. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time now, yet only Jalina seemed to be at peace with the inevitable death ravaging her body, demanding that she join the ancestors and friends who fell before her. Her husband, her children who died in the various attacks on geth controlled Rannoch and during the genocide. She could hear them all, call for her to join them at long last.
Yes... she was ready to heed their calls.
But not just yet; Jalina had one final goal before she would allow her death to come to her.
"Very good, Captain," she murmured, smiling faintly to the concerned looking young woman who was sitting in front of her... "Is... Is there any transmissions from Captain Hanala'Jarva?"
The Captain of the Kareon shook her head.
"None, ma'am... I'm sure they've survived. Hanala Jarva isn't much different than her father," she stated. The Captain paused, and in a much less formal tone, added. "I think you should rest, Admiral. Save your strength for first contact."
Touched by the concern, Jalina only looked up to her and smiled, her hand reaching out across to where she sat.
"I'm old, Captain Haleos, not invalid..." the Admiral informed the captain kindly. "I have plenty of time to rest when I've passed on."
Captain Daer'Haleos flinched, the mere mention of death touching a nerve. Jalina stood unsteadily up
"For now... I need to remain alert," the old quarian spoke as she was helped up from her seat. "The first steps to our plan are crucial. If we fail with these humans... everything I worked for will be for nothing."
She would not get to see Rannoch again... but if she could help her people have a new home on this beautiful garden world known simply as earth. No longer enslaved to their ships... then it would be worth never seeing the home world again.
...
...
This was madness. Sheer madness!
He would have surely thought he was hallucinating if he was a less rational minded man. No, standing in front of him and briefing him on their intentions was indeed an alien, quarian who was a military officer no less. A fascinating thought Rommel would push aside until later.
For now, he had to swallow this audacious plan the quarian seemed to have in mind. Did she even comprehend what they were asking? Did Hoch, who was clearly a man who knew exactly what they were about to risk, really think that a surgical infiltration was preferable now then waiting several months when he could clear the way during his renewed offensive?
Once more... he would push away the fact that he was speaking to aliens and focus on what they said instead. He could debate what this all meant once he found some time.
"So the objective is to break through the lines set up, traverse through over one hundred and fifty kilometers in to Commonwealth held territory, you have zero fighter support, you want dodge an entire army made up of conventional and unconventional forces... all so that you could mine for a rare substance in order to contact her fleet so that an alliance can be made." Rommel managed to summarize.
Instead of looking at him like he had grown a second head, the SS officer sitting before him actually nodded. Rommel huffed shortly. One could not say he wasn't up for a good challenge and this one was certainly that. There were over three hundred thousand men itching to hit Tripoli, supported by a top tier air force and a commendable tank force... and they expected to infiltrate that deep in contested land?
Very interesting…. very bold…. he liked that.
"It will be difficult, but certainly not impossible," Rommel said thoughtfully. "The 8th Army is stretched thin across Libya, You could break out, might even be able to make a break to your survey sight even without a scratch."
"But?"
Rommel leaned against his desk.
"But, while the 8th Army is focused on keeping my army trapped, the Seventh Armor division's sole job is to roam the deserts and kill any man in Afrika Korps uniform." Rommel sighed. "It doesn't help that they're supported by elements of the SAS."
"Forgive my ignorance, but... SAS?" the female alien captain inquired, the initials rolling of her tongue sounded very foreign.
Rommel nodded gravely.
"Special Air Services... imagine your attaché here, except they don't need pretty uniforms, or political positions," Rommel explained to the woman. From the corner of his eye he could see anger develop in the young colonel's expression, especially when he added, "Their only focus is to give any German they see a very bad day."
He paused, leaned into his seat and smirked slightly
"I would sell my soul to have a unit like them under my command..." the Generaloberst sighed wistfully. "Inventive, capable of long term independent operation… and quite possibly the cleverest bastards I've ever seen thrown against me."
Rommel, suddenly envious of the enemy Special Forces unit, leaned back into his seat, eying the group very wearily.
"Well..." he exhaled, his hands lapping together. "I can't see how I can help you much more then open the front gate and send you out."
The male alien standing on the other side of Hoch actually snorted to him derisively.
"Isn't it obvious what we need?"
Rommel blinked at the condescending attitude. Had this alien been human, he would have undoubtedly sent him out in a scout car to cross into the English lines.
"You want me to distract the English for you. Well boy, a distraction will cost me tanks, crews and petrol. None of which are abundant at the moment," Rommel snapped at the second quarian before sitting back down behind his desk.
It was silent. He watched idly as both Hoch and the alien known as Hanala both glared at the alien male. He turned back his attention to the reports filed to him about yesterday's attack.
"What if I could provide an incentive?"
Rommel glanced up, it had been the woman who spoke, she stepped forward in front of the SS officer and the disrespectful little shit. It was her turn to convince him.
"I don't like bribes," Rommel warned.
"Not a bribe, an investment... a deal, Herr Generaloberst," she spoke politely, even using his proper title despite having no affiliation to German culture. "I can't provide you tanks or crews, but I can provide you the locations of untapped oil reserves in this very region."
The General's mask broke. Joachim stared at Hanala appraisingly as well. Oil was here in these sands? How could it be? How could she even know?
Suddenly the quarians arm glowed neon blue as a map suddenly opened up before him. It was that of Italian Libya, Red dots combing across the map. Rommel rubbed his chin, this was... much too big to simply overlook...
"How much are we talking about?" he inquired his mask of calm returning as his voice stayed neutral.
"Enough that you will never need to worry about fossil fuel allocation ever again," Captain Jarva informed him, the device flashing back to nothingness as she dropped her arm. She glanced to Hoch, who stepped forward. "It'll take a while to get the manufacturing plants in place, but… your drive to Persia can be completed without worrying about fuel."
Rommel laughed to himself.
"Forget Persia," Rommel boasted. "If the Führer would provide me with another army, I could reach India."
He chuckled and once more sighed.
"Regardless this is Italian domain," the Generaloberst finally spoke, more to himself then to the others. "I will need to consult with them to make an investment, so long as they provide me with whatever fuel I need, whenever I need it."
With his concerns for fuel potentially solved so he could go back to destroying the English where they stood, Rommel looked up to the quarian who was staring at him patiently, awaiting an answer from him. The general stood up a slight smile on his face as he offered his hand to the alien.
"Well now quarian, you've made yourself a deal," he spoke, curtly shaking her hand. "I can feint an offensive. The English are so wound up, one move by me and they panic to suppress it."
Standing up, he ushered the group to follow him as together they planned out their feint.
...
...
"I can't believe Rommel was willing to give you and your tank to me."
Wiping the grim off his hands as he helped Unteroffizier Johann Reister by passing up ten large petrol canisters inside the Tiger, Hoch pulled himself up to sit on the rear of the Panzer. The Tiger had terrible fuel efficiency. One hundred and fifty miles was just beyond their operational range, so they had to improvise. They improvised by siphoning petrol from Italian cargo trucks.
"I don't think Rommel is a particular fan of the Tiger. He spent an hour inspecting the tanks, kept muttering about how wasteful this beast is," Reister replied as he climbed from out of his tank, closing the hatch behind him. "He said he could have bought about ten 8.8's centimetre guns for the price of one of these and saved on fuel cost."
Reister sighed and he jumped off the side of the tank, one hand slicking through sweat stained blond hair the other hand patting his Tiger like it was a pet.
"Regardless, she's a real beauty," Johann spoke with a great sense of pride. "Sigrid took fucking thirteen direct hits, didn't even crack the armour."
Hoch raised his eyebrow.
"Sigrid?" he repeated.
Reister smiled crookedly, like he was a man possessed. Hoch rolled his eyes and turned, finding Hanala limping slightly towards him, a barrel marked as water in her hands. As soon as she approached, he stepped forward, offering to help her. It was an offer that was denied as she dragged the barrel to the Tiger and hefted it up onto the back of the heavy tank.
"We know what in the hell most of your team is comprised of, we were there, remember? As soon as we hit the open desert, dump your stupid disguises. You look ridiculous." Reister leered, his eyes narrowing on Hanala as she climbed onto his tank.
As Hanala finished bolting the water drum onto the back of the tank, she turned back to the Tank Commander, who was now properly fitted with a communication device.
"Is it because we're not human?" Hanala asked him, her arms crossed as she took a seat on the semi cool barrel.
Reister shook his head.
"No, because you're a woman!" Johann admitted in a high voice, not paying mind to the tense body language in both Hoch and Hanala. "Personally I think it's bad luck having a woman on board my vehicle. I had a friend in France show off his tank to a Parisian woman. Tank took a petrol bomb… you could hear the two of them screaming from blocks away!"
Laughing as he recalled what happened to his friend, he wandered away to fine the rest of his crew, leaving Hanala and Hoch in an awkward silence as Hanala tried her best to suppress the anger that Joachim could see growing by each passing second.
"Is everyone in your nation this intolerant to woman?" Hanala called out as she stood up.
Looking her over, Hoch nodded his head.
"Get used to it, it's just how it is," he muttered as he lit up a cigarette.
Hoch trailed off as he watched Hanala simply glare at him like he had spoken treason. At least that was what she did at first. Jumping off the tank, she stalked away to re-join the rest of the team who were doing an ammunition check. Watching her, he could swear there was a sway in her step, an extra roll in her hip.
"Obersturmbannführer Hoch, may I have a word?"
Hoch turned to the commanding voice and found that Rommel was approaching them with his adjutant and personal guard detachment. Forgoing the instinct to salute in an exposed environment, Hoch decided to simply nod instead. He watched as Rommel's gloved hand reached into his pocket, pulling a small slip of paper out and placed it into Hoch's hands.
It was a radio channel.
"Contact these numbers should a need arise," Rommel informed the SS officer briskly. "Kesselring owes me a few favors – namely all my babysitting of his Italian friends. I'll have him provide what air support that can be managed."
Air support? This Operation was looking better already.
"Thank you Herr Generaloberst," Hoch nearly gushed, smiling to the charismatic Desert Fox. His hand snapped high up into the air into a salute. It was a salute that was simply stared at by the elder General.
Rommel huffed, a small laugh and shook his head.
"No, Herr Hoch. I should think a proper salute was in order," Rommel said "You've earned it."
Blinking at the gesture of good will displayed by the Desert Fox himself, Hoch dropped his hand and pressed it against the side of his head. Rommel returned it and turned away, heading back to his command and leaving Hoch feeling much more welcomed then he had been not a day ago.
...
...
For the past two hour, German and Italian artillery was firing in every possible direction
Rommel's faux attack was made mostly up of Italian and captured English tanks, supported by several heavier armed Panzer IV auf F2's. As for Hoch and the rest of his team, they were all loaded onto the back of Hauptmann's Tiger. Fuhrmann was manning the MG-34 the tankers added on to the cupola; Galas'Yoad was borrowing Fuhrmann's MG-42 and set it up facing the rear, protecting them from any and all English fire.
Xen was inside the tank, He was in charge of navigation. He would help the crew of the Tiger, all of whom very nervous at the prospect of being guided by an alien with a possible exception to Unteroffizer Reister, who may have been as weary as the rest of the tankers, but was most likely to kill Xen in a heartbeat.
Hoch patted, Hanala on the shoulder. He could feel her quivering. Whether it was the chilly North African night or the fear of new fighting, Hoch could not place. Hanala turned back to him.
"Keep your head low. If we start taking serious fire, we jump off and run alongside the Tiger."
Hanala nodded, her assault rifle readied.
Before she could reply, an anti-tank shell flew over their heads. With that close range shot, the entire probing mission opened fire on everything it could find.
A Fiat m14/41 medium tank exploded in front of them, the screams of the crew dying as the shells exploded inside their cache. Hock suppressed a shudder as he fired on a trench filed with Tommy's. Hanala was there at his side and doing the exact same as he was. The Tiger swerved, moving around the right flank of the burning Italian tank, running clear over the trench and crashing through the tracks. Hoch could not help but hope no one was under there.
As the Tiger cut away from the unit and into the rocky desert, Hoch found him and his team suddenly no longer safe, still everyone continued to fire. Fuhrmann dropped three men holding what looked like anti-tank rifles. Galas laid down a suppressing fire as they retreated. Hoch and Hanala step the flanks safe from infantry and as for Reister, Reister blew any son of a bitch up who got in the way of his tank and the open expanse of the desert.
Hitting what looked like a Matilda before it could swing its barrel around, the Tiger drove through the billowing, oily smoke from the hit English tank and fled into the dark night.