Tempelhof

Hans and Paul took a full day to recover, staying in the NDM radio station, before moving on to Tempelhofer Feld as ordered. Paul drove them slowly through the streets, staying away from main roads and using side streets and alleys to get to their destination. When they turned onto Leinestrasse and saw Tempelhofer Feld at the end of the street Hans almost couldn't believe his eyes.

Originally an airport Tempelhofer Feld had been transformed into a park a decade before Der Atomkrieg. A park that no longer existed. The Alliance had transformed the park into a military base, complete with a wall that ran around the outermost access road. American vertibirds were taking off and landing from within the walls of the base, rising into the morning sky and racing away to battles unknown. Paul slowly eased the Kettenkrad along, approaching one of the wall's gates. There was a guard tower next to the gate, inside the wall. The men inside watched the Kettenkrad approach with indifference.

"You are on military property, Berliners! Why are you here?" one of the guards shouted.

"We're from Wilhelmshagen!" Hans yelled back. "Colonel Hoffmann sent us!"

The guard picked up his radio and said something into it that Hans couldn't hear. After a minute he nodded, set the radio down, and pressed a button. The gate automatically opened, sliding open on a track, and the guard waved them inside. "Park by the tower!"

"Reminds me of the time we first met," Paul said as he guided the Kettenkrad into the base. He stopped by the tower as ordered and switched the engine off. The guard descended from the tower, leaving his buddy behind, and approached them. He handed Paul a hand-drawn map of the base, with a section near the center highlighted.

"Proceed here, freelancers, to the Home Office. It's shaped like an upside-down T. When you get there, tell the guards who you are and they'll take you to see General Harper."

"Thanks," Paul said. He slid the map into his shirt's breast pocket, turned on the Kettenkrad, and they got moving again. Paul drove in a roughly northwestern direction, towards the center of the park. Along the way they passed the landing pads for the American vertibirds and a small fleet of parked SdKfz 251 halftracks, all being worked on. A few Panzerbots patrolled the base, a mix of PzB Is and IIs, along with human guards. When they reached the Home Office Paul parked the Kettenkrad by the building's wall and turned it off. He pulled a chain out from a storage box bolted to the vehicle and looped it around the left track and front wheel, locking it and ensuring no one mistook it for an EAA vehicle. The two of them approached the front door, flanked by two guards. Above it was the green flag of the European Commonwealth, a motif resembling the American flag inside the ring of stars. They approached the guards, each carrying a G3 with wood furniture.

"I'm Hans Eckhart," he said. "This is Paul March. We work for Colonel Hoffmann at the marina in Die Banke. He told us to come here."

The guard on the left nodded and opened the door for them. "The General is expecting you two. Head inside and take the stairs straight to the top floor."

Hans and Paul entered the building, passing by a team of American Panzertroopers as they left the building. The two of them made a beeline straight for the stairs opposite the front doors and took them up to the top. The stairs reached their apex at the mouth of a hallway that led straight to a pair of window-adorned double doors. A sole guard stood outside, clad inside the bug-eyed American Panzertrooper armor Hans had seen at Air Station Richardson the year before. The soldier inside watched them both approach, a Rheinmetall M72 Gauss Rifle in his hands. Painted on the left side of his breastplate was the symbol Hans had seen at the Air Station: the letter 'E' in a ring of thirteen stars.

"We're here to see General Harper," Hans said. The soldier just stared at them, face concealed behind the visage of the bug-eyed helmet. The suit was painted black, with a hose running from a filter on the right side of the helmet to a pack concealed in the rear of the suit. The smooth, rounded edges of the suit were scratched and dented, but looked like they could stop a Gauss round.

They can stop a Gauss round, Hans thought, remembering the frantic fight to escape Air Station Richardson.

"Who?" the soldier asked.

Hans and Paul shared a look. "General Harper? We were told he's here."

"No," the man said. "Who are you?"

"Hans Eckhart. This is Paul March."

The soldier nodded, the movement exaggerated in his helmet. "Hans Eckhart. The Reichstag Raider. General Harper is eager to meet you. The door's unlocked. Hell, it's usually left open. I'm just here to slaughter any cocksucker retarded enough to come up those steps with a gun in his hand."

Hans and Paul shared another look. "We'll keep that in mind," Paul said. Hans opened the doors and together they entered the office, taking it in. The far wall was dominated by a single window, overlooking the base outside. To the left was a German flag, an American flag to the right. Beneath the window was a large wooden desk, a man seated behind it. He looked to be in his forties, a combed head of ginger hair atop his toned shoulders. He was wearing a green officer's uniform, a couple medals pinned to his chest. Carried in a shoulder holster rig was a SIG-Sauer 14mm pistol. An extremely rare and impressive piece of kit. He stood as Hans and Paul entered and smiled. Even before he opened his mouth Hans could tell he was American.

"Welcome. Please, sit," the man said in flawless German. "I am Andrew Harper, leader of the EAE in Germany. I'm pleased to see you both arrived safely. I'm told you two have good news for me?"

Hans and Paul sat in the chairs generously offered, though Herr Harper elected to remain standing. "We do," Hans said. He filled the General in on their activities over the past few days and the man nodded through it all, clapping his hands together when Hans was done.

"Sounds like you two encountered a Gargoyle," Harper said. "Brutal creature. I'm glad to hear that the matter involving the U-Bahn station was resolved, along with the NDM radio station. I'll dispatch a courier to Die Banke on the next flight to tell Herr Hoffmann the good news. Now, let's talk turkey."

"What the Hell's a turkey?" Paul said.

Harper grinned. "If they're not extinct then I'll show you one day. They taste great, believe that. The salient issue here is the NDM. The Neue Deutsche Monarchie. You two have done good work against them over the past week, knocking out their logistics base at the Kopenick hotel and taking out that radio station. All that was just the start, however. The real work begins now. The EAE is about to bring the fight to the enemy in a big way, and we need all the help we can get."

Hans cocked a brow. "I thought you were the EAA. Euro-American Alliance?"

"We're rebranding," Harper said. "The work we're doing is important for the health of both America and Europe. We're going to get Europe back on her feet. You no doubt saw the equipment we've got outside. Stuff like that is going to give us the edge over the NDM."

"Where do we fit in with all this?" Hans asked.

"Like I said, we need all the help we can get," Harper said. "Freelancers such as yourselves can be a big help, able to move in ways and into places that are too dangerous for standard soldiers or even power armor troops. We've got a big operation coming up tomorrow, if you want in on it."

Hans looked at Paul, who nodded. "Give us the details."

"Couple of miles southwest of here, on Unter-den-Eichen, is the Berlin Botanischer Garten und Museum. A military base and food hub for the NDM. I want it. They've got greenhouses there growing major crops for their settlements and soldiers. Corn, wheat, even apples. Holding it would be a major boon for us. We're gonna throw some major firepower at the place and see if we can't root them out."

"What kind of firepower?" Hans said.

Harper grinned again. A grin not too unlike a snake oil salesman, in Hans' opinion. "Three vertibirds, two Panzertrooper squads, and a Famo modified with an 88mm flak cannon."

"Impressive!" Paul said with a whistle.

"Jesus," Hans said, "that much firepower? What kind of defenses do the NDM have at the botanical gardens?"

"Our recon suggests they have four Panzer Is there, along with twelve Panzerbot IIs. This is in addition to their infantry presence, which hovers around 150. The plan will be to fly two Panzertrooper squads into the heart of the camp and raise Hell while the remainder of the assault force approaches via halftrack. The Hanomags will serve as escorts for the Famo after discharging their squads," Harper explained.

"Brute force, eh?" Paul said. "We're good at that sort of thing."

"I'm sure," Harper said with a grin. He looked at Hans. "After all, you are Hans Eckhart. The Reichstag Raider, and one of Berlin's most renowned problem solvers. Having you onboard is a major score for us."

Hans was perturbed again. "Christ, again with this stalker shit. How does your organization know so much about me?"

"You're not exactly subtle, buddy," Paul quipped.

"Your friend is right," Harper said. "You've made a name for yourself over the last three years, building up the Berlin U-Bahn network as a series of connected settlements. You're crafty, clever, and resourceful. More important than that, however, you're a major force for freedom and democracy in Berlin. Other factions like the Deutsche Kommunists, the Prussian Knights, and defunct factions like the Bavarian Coalition and the Sturmutants, they all want to drag Germany backwards. Back to outdated and dysfunctional systems of governments. You, on the other hand, understand the importance of democracy. Of republics. You haven't given that up, despite everything that's happened to Berlin and Germany."

"Uh huh," Hans said. "And what about you? What are you a champion of?"

Harper sat. "The same as you, friend. Peace, freedom, and democracy. I've been in Europe since 2079, sent here by the continuation of my government, formed after the Great War. Over the past 21 years I've been working to help restore Europe to her former glory. Six years we ago we unified France and established the New French Republic, and just last year we helped wrap up the Austrian Civil War. They'd been at it for almost 30 years, the country splintering in the wake of the Resource Wars ending. Germany's next on the list, and the EAE's not going to stop until Europe is free and democratic again."

"I see," Hans said, rubbing his chin. "Tell me: why the rebrand?"

"Euro-American Alliance just wasn't cutting it anymore," Harper said. "It wasn't in tune with what we're really about. Who we really are. The Euro-American Enclave is a more fitting name, properly representing how tight our bonds will be."

"I thought America didn't exist anymore."

Harper waved his hand dismissively. "A common assumption among Germans. After all, the idea that the U.S could've survived the Great War is a hard sell. And since international news doesn't exactly exist anymore, it's no surprise most Europeans wrote off the U.S. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if China still exists in some capacity, limping along with all the same problems we all have. They'll get theirs eventually, don't you worry. It'll take a long time, but we'll finish that war."

"Just where are you from, exactly?" Hans asked.

"California, on the west coast of the U.S. I was 22 when the bombs fell, serving in the U.S Army in Alaska. When the bombs came my unit evacuated to California, where the U.S government retreated to in the wake of the Great War. I volunteered to go on this mission because I believed in the importance of it all. That a stable Europe was nothing but beneficial for the stability for America and the world at large. Having a degree in robotics from the Commonwealth Institute of Technology in Boston didn't hurt, either."

"And now here you are, a real champion of truth and justice," Hans said with a sigh. "Fine, what's the pay for this job?"

"A thousand dollars each. Big money these days. The force leaves tomorrow morning at dawn, so you'd better stock up and rest tonight. We have a section of tents reserved for freelancers. The market's in the hangar behind the office. I'll even pay you up front, in light of your reputation," Harper said. He stood and walked over to his wall safe, unlocking it and producing the money for the two of them. Hans counted it out, put it in his pocket, and stood.

"Let's get to it, then."

The two of them left the office and went downstairs, heading outside and around the edge of the Home Office to the large hangar behind the building. The main door at its front was open, as well as the side doors meant for personnel. Inside were about a dozen merchant stalls, all hawking their wares to the base's civilian population. Hans took stock, going over his ammo and gear. "We both need a major restock," he said to Paul.

"I know," Paul said. "I'll go find someone who'll buy all the crap I've picked up. You take care of the ammo and grenades. An armor upgrade might be a good idea, too."

"You're right," Hans said. "That is a good idea. Who knew you could have those?"

"You did," Paul said with a smile. "You just forgot in your old age."

The two of them parted ways, with Hans going left while Paul went right. He scanned the crowds and joined them, squeezing through the throngs of people with an "ope" there and a "pardon me" there. He went straight for the market's biggest stall, expecting it to be the arms dealer, but instead it was just a traveling cafeteria. The 22nd century equivalent of a pre-war taco truck, basically.

"Traveler!" a girl's voice shouted nearby. "Over here! Traveler!"

Is that...?

He followed the girl's cries to their noisy source, surprised to see the little girl from Die Banke standing beside her chests of guns, hands on her hips. "Helga?" Hans said. "What are you doing here?"

"Duh," the little girl said, "making money! These Americans are all loaded! Good thing I'm loaded too; locked and loaded, that is!"

Hans smiled. "Is that right? Well I guess your goods are in demand, that's for sure."

"You got that right!" Helga said. "You're here to buy, right? C'mooon, you've gotta need bullets. I haven't seen you in like five days. You better not have bought bullets somewhere else!"

"No, no," Hans said, putting his hands up. "I didn't buy ammo anywhere else. And you're right, I do need ammo. My friend and I both. He's off somewhere else, selling all the stuff we've looted. We need a big restock; 8mm Mauser, 8mm Kurz, 9mm PB, and .45 Mars Long."

Helga lugged out her chest of ammo. "Just root through this!"

Hans opened the footlocker and rifled through the contents. She'd had the decency to pack all the ammo into individual boxes, though as expected the actual contents were a hodge-podge of handloads, commercial hunting ammo, and military surplus. Some of the ammo came packed in magazines too, which Hans didn't find all that surprising. He found another mag for the FG42 along with two boxes of military 8mm Mauser. He was about to grab the boxes of 8mm Kurz soft-point when he realized the NDM soldiers would probably be wearing armor, which would easily stop soft-point rounds. After a few minutes of digging through the crate he'd produced an adequate amount of ammo for both their rifles as well as Paul's 9mm P5. "You don't have any .45 Mars?

Helga shrugged. "Don't even know what that is, traveler. If it's not in the box then I don't have it!"

"OK," Hans said. He hadn't been using the Mars Automatic, but he only had the ammo he'd had on him when he escaped his burning house, leaving him with just three mags for the heavy pistol. It'll have to be enough, he mused. "I guess I'll just take all this, then."

He counted out the ammo and presented it to Helga, who looked it over. "Ehhhhh... $200!"

"Fuck me," Hans said, reaching into his pocket.

"Gross, no!"

He counted out the money and handed it over to the little charlatan. "What do you buy with all this money, anyway?"

"Food!" Helga said. "They don't let me eat for free anymore, the bastards. School is still free though, which is cool I guess. They've got these buildings they let us live in, with all the girls in one and all the boys in another, but they usually give me my own room since I'm such an important businesswoman!"

Hans laughed. "Yeah, I guess you are. What do they teach you at this school? Do you have any friends? A boyfriend, maybe?"

"Ew, no!" Helga said. "All the boys in my school are dumb, so they're lucky they don't make us pay to go or they'd all go broke. They teach us stuff like reading and writing and how to do math and stuff like that, which is boring because I figured out all that stuff a super long time ago. They teach us stuff like history too, which is cool! I wish I'd been around before the big bombs dropped. I don't like the ethics and morals classes they teach, though. They're boring."

"Ethics and morals?" Hans asked. "What kind?"

"Stuff like it's important to share and crap, but also stuff like how crime 'harms the frail fabric of civilized society'," she said, using her fingers to make air quotes. "They also teach us about the mutants, and how they're all evil nonhuman vermin that should all be extinguished. It sounds stupid, but he said it'll make the world like the old days again. Back when there weren't any mutants."

Hans was taken aback a little, hearing such a little girl talk about genocide like that.

"The teachers are all nice, though," Helga went on. "I like my history teacher the most! He tells us all about how life was like before the big bombs came, and that one day we'll get married and have kids and live in houses and work normal jobs."

"Your teacher said he's going to marry you?"

"Ew, no! You're weird, traveler," Helga said. "He said all the girls in our school are gonna get married to all the boys. I almost threw up! I don't want to stay in a house all day and clean, I want to run a big store! That's the real dream; to have enough money to not have to work any more!"

"You're telling me," Hans said. He sat down next to the little girl and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "You know, I'm old enough to have been around before the big bombs came, and I remember what it was like back then. It's true that mutants didn't exist back then, but it's also true that life was messed up for other reasons. I think, maybe, that when your history teacher tells you that killing all the mutants will bring back the old days you should remember that there's a lot more messed up in our world than just mutants."

Helga frowned. "But if killing all the mutants won't make it like the old days, then why would he tell us that?"

"You know, Helga, sometimes people lie. Sometimes they lie to take something from you, or get you to believe something. Sometimes, though, people lie to make you act. To make you do something you wouldn't normally do. Those are the worst kind of lies, because they change us in ways that we can't even see," Hans said. He leaned back in the chair and put his hands behind his head. "Lies like that are the most evil, because when you start doing things you wouldn't normally do, you start telling lies to yourself."

Helga looked at him, confused. She was about to say something when Hans heard someone coming up from behind him and Helga looked past him. He looked over his shoulder and saw Paul standing there, hands on his hips. "Making friends, I see!"

Hans stood and put a hand on Paul's shoulder. "Helga Oertzen, this is Paul. My old friend."

"Your only friend, buddy. Erich doesn't count because he doesn't have friends, just people he doesn't want to shoot."

Helga put her hands on her hips. "Your buddy already bought everything you needed, so now you better find something else to buy!"

"Oh, I see!" said Paul. "Wouldn't be fair if I left without buying anything. Say, I'm looking for special goods. Not guns or ammo, either, but something more interesting."

"I've got a bunch of pre-war comics and toys, too! They're in here," Helga said, opening one of her smaller chests and showing Paul the goods. He bent over to look inside and whistled.

"American comics, eh? Impressive," Paul said. "Most impressive."

Hans sat back down and watched him go through her stuff, waiting for the moment when the master merchant went up against the master miser. He leaned back in the chair and watched, a smile on his face as they started haggling. In the back of his mind, though, he couldn't help but think about what Helga had told him. And what he'd told her.

And how, in some strange way, when he looked at her it felt like he was looking into a mirror.