Time War: Onslaught Read online

  "Oh, well, they can't say no forever," he said to himself, as he went forward to try once again to get a word in.

  He strolled on. The sun was just rising and created a beautiful red skyline behind the secure wing they called 'the shed.' There was not a single sound of gunfire or distant bombing. For a moment he could imagine he was taking a pleasant stroll in the country, and that there was no war at all. But his dream was quickly shattered when he heard the rattle of a Sten gun in the direction he was heading. He quickly reached for the revolver on his belt and drew it out, and went forward towards the shed.

  He looked around for help. A single guard was rushing towards him from the main building. He was holding a Sten at the ready.

  "On me," said the Captain, and he carried on.

  He remembered the hulking Robak. He was a terrifying sight to behold. Wielding nothing more than his miserly little .38 revolver, he felt nothing short of naked and prayed the sound of gunfire was not related to the creature. But he knew in his heart that it was the most likely explanation.

  "You see that thing, you fill it full of lead, you hear?"

  The soldier looked confused, and it was becoming clear that he had no concept of what was being held in the shed.

  "Just stay close, and try not to shit your pants," he said.

  He surprised himself with the words that were coming out of his mouth, and could only think that he was being ever more influenced by Corwin and his rebellious and crude squad. He shook his head at how rude and uncivilised he had been, but at least it calmed his nerves a little. Further gunfire rang out, this time from a bolt-action rifle. Four shots were fired until the gun fell silent. An alarm began to sound, and several other troops were rushing towards them from the main building. Hotwell reached the main doors to find they were open. The guards that were on duty must have rushed in to counter whatever threat existed. He stopped for just a moment to see if there was a weapon inside the entrance that he could use in the guardroom, but he had no such luck.

  The Captain waited for four of the other soldiers to reach them. He had no intention of going in without at least a few others in support. More gunshots rang out from inside, and once again went silent. They could hear several screams as a few people ran in fear. He looked at the others. No one wanted to be the first through the door, so he took the leap and led the way.

  I definitely should have gone with Corwin!

  He felt his heart racing, and the fear and tension increase with every step he took. He body was so stiff he could barely bend his knees and keep putting one foot in front of the other. They were in a short corridor and coming to a T-junction. At the end was a closed door, but as they approached, it began to shake violently, and he almost felt his heart stop. He raised his pistol to take aim and noticed his hand was shaking a little. He raised his other hand to steady it, but the door finally swung open. A man wearing a lab coat staggered out. Blood was spattered across his chest and face, but it didn't appear to be his own. His eyes were wandering from side to side, and he was clearly in shock.

  "It...it...that..." he began to mutter and staggered on past them. Hotwell watched him carry on to the door, but he knew he couldn't spare anyone to lend a hand. He took a deep breath and stepped through the doorway and into a laboratory. There were two doors on each wall that led to what looked like cells. The lights overhead fluttered, and he could already see two bodies on the ground. There was a trail of blood leading to one cell, and the door was slightly ajar.

  "Stay together," he whispered.

  He knew they should split up, but he was too terrified to do so. He stepped very slowly and very cautiously towards the doorway, noticing his feet slipping a on the blood underfoot. That made him feel sick, but he kept telling himself to go on. He finally reached it and hauled the door open quickly. His other hand held the pistol forward with his finger already squeezing the trigger a little. He almost fired a shot before realising all that was inside was the body of a soldier. He heard a screeching sound from above and turned just in time to see Robak descend from the ceiling. It was a terrifying sight, and he landed on two of the soldiers before anybody could even get their weapons on target.

  The two men were crushed by his weight and died instantly. He proceeded to grab another by his head and snap his neck with one quick flick. He spun around with the kind of speed and agility no one would expect from such a brutishly large and muscled man. Just as the last soldier squeezed the trigger on his Sten, Robak grabbed the barrel and pulled so that the full auto fire smashed into the wall. Finally, the barrel came in line with Hotwell. He ducked for cover behind one of the counters.

  He counted himself lucky and tried to pull himself back up to take on the enemy, but felt a surge of pain through his arm. He had been hit twice, one in the upper left arm and one in the left collar. Blood was pouring from the wounds, but he knew he had to go on. He pushed up with his legs and one good arm, getting upright just in time to see Robak strike the soldier with a punch to the face that fractured his skull. The poor man collapsed dead. Hotwell lifted his pistol and fired. The first shot just missed Robak; the second hit his chest. He responded by throwing the Sten at Hotwell.

  The submachine gun hit him square in the chest with enough force that he was thrown down to the floor. He winced in pain from the impact of the weapon, and the surge of pain his landing caused to soar through his injured body. He shrugged it off and forced himself to get back up. Robak burst through the door they had come through. A few more shots rang out, and then all he heard was the siren around the base.

  He was relieved, knowing his fight was over. He slumped back against one of the chairs and dropped his weapon, feeling the energy being drained out from him. He looked back to his injuries. Both bullets had passed right through, and he could see just how much a lucky escape he had gotten. He looked down at the bodies all around him. He didn't know a single one of their names.

  "Poor bastards," he said to himself, "They should have let Corwin kill that thing."

  He felt embittered as he looked around at all the equipment and realised that it confirmed all of his suspicions. The Allies had been studying the obscene creature in some attempt to replicate its superhuman strength and toughness. Then he thought of how desperate the war had become and understood they had to try everything they could.

  A few minutes passed by when finally four soldiers rushed in with a Sergeant Major at their head. They stopped and looked in amazement at the bloodshed, before finally one came to give him medical attention.

  "What the fuck happened here?" asked the Sergeant in a thick Scottish accent.

  "Didn't you see it, the creature?" Hotwell asked.

  "That thing is real? I had heard rumours, what was that monstrosity?"

  "No idea, did you catch it?"

  He shook his head.

  "That's not good."

  * * *

  Corwin looked out the window of the small box shaped utility vehicle they were driving in. A number of officers and personnel, including MPs, were formed up in front of the house that had become their base and home. He wasn't sure whether they were there to arrest them or celebrate their victory. They rolled to a halt in front of the crowd, and nobody came to greet them. Corwin stepped out and was soon joined by the others in what seemed to be a standoff. He could not figure out what was happening. Colonel Williams stood at their centre on the steps to the building. He stood motionless and staring at Corwin.

  "You get sent to help seize a few transports and come back with a destroyer? A destroyer! What an outrageous act of piracy!"

  All fell silent as Corwin waited to hear what repercussions might ensue. Finally, the Colonel lifted up his hands and began to clap slowly.

  "I salute you!"

  He was soon joined by others as a round of applause and cheering erupting from all those around him. He breathed a sigh of relief, for all he needed was to make enemies of their new friends. He looked back to his squad who looked exhausted by the pretentious welco
me back, but also glad of a little appreciation. Nylund was soaking it up the most as he paced back and forth throwing his hands in the air to call for more applause; acting as if he had singlehandedly won the prize they had returned to England with. Williams stepped down to come and greet him and patted him on the shoulder.

  "What a fine execution of a mission. Plenty of the brass don't like missions going off task and beyond the remit of what they were intended, but there are few in Whitehall who will have anything much to say about it. Churchill himself called me to extend his appreciation and gratitude to you. It is more than just a success for the SSRF, but proof you are all that we have been saying. It is the sort of big win that keeps spirits up. Well done!"

  "Thanks, but where is Captain Hotwell?"

  Williams sighed.

  "I am sorry to say the Captain is recovering from wounds suffered when that dreadful monstrosity made his escape."

  "Robak? Robak escaped?" Corwin asked in a heightened tone.

  "Yes, and we lost a few good men in the process. But not to worry, old chap, we will retrieve him in time."

  "Fuck me, what the hell were you thinking?"

  Williams did not look too happy with his response, and the raised and aggressive tone of Corwin had brought everyone to silence as they watched the two officers square off against one another.

  "I don't much like your tone, Captain," Williams stated calmly.

  "Neither do I, nor the fucking reason I am brought to it. I told you to kill that thing, and you wanted otherwise. If you needed to poke and prod, and do all whatever it is you people do, you could have at least had the common sense to keep him caged, anchored down, and drugged out of his fucking skull. Do you know what you have done?"

  "What I have done? No, Captain, what that creature has done. That creature which you say came here with you. Do not start blaming us for the acts of the enemy. They are the enemy and will do everything they can to defeat us, just as we will do to them."

  Corwin realised he wasn't getting anywhere.

  "Hotwell, is he okay?"

  Williams didn't respond for a moment, trying to judge where the Captain was taking the conversation, but he could see genuine worry in his face so went on.

  "His injuries were not life threatening, unlike many others. You should find him in your living quarters getting some rest."

  Williams leaned in close to whisper to him.

  "Take it easy, Captain. There are a lot more people fighting than just your squad. Many of my boys have been fighting this war a long time before the Yanks even got involved."

  Corwin didn't feel any connection to the America of this period, but he let it pass.

  "If Robak gets back to his people, then you can bet your ass they will come for this place, hard and fast, and far worse than they did last time. He knows my face and exactly who we are. We are a danger to Vill... the Germans, and that we cannot be left to keep doing what we are doing."

  "Then we will be ready for them. In the meantime, I suggest your team gets some rest. You've done great work, and you must be exhausted. Rest and calm yourselves. I will be in touch."

  Corwin nodded in agreement and carried on around the building to head for their billets. Many of the British soldiers clapped and patted them on the back as they passed through their ranks. It was nice to be appreciated, but it was also of concern to Corwin that they had no idea how bad things could get. As they approached their accommodation, they could see Hotwell in the doorway. His arm was in a sling, and he wore no cap. He was leaning against the frame with a cigarette in his good hand.

  "I hear things went rather well," he said.

  "But not here, by the looks. You let Robak get away?"

  "I didn't exactly open the door and let him run. More like he ran over me like a steam train."

  "And yet he let you live?"

  Hotwell scoffed.

  "I put up a fight, and he ran."

  Corwin laughed.

  "What? Not like I shot myself!"

  The laughter soon died down.

  "The enemy knew you had something special here, with us, but they didn't know what. If Robak makes it back to Villiers, then they will know precisely who we are and where we are, and we'll have a whole ton of shit coming down on our heads."

  "Agreed, but I don't know what you expect me to do about it?"

  Corwin groaned as he went on.

  "Williams already has as many men as he can spare out hunting for him. How hard can it be to find a genetic freak like monster like that? I mean really, how can he hide?"

  "You have spies in Germany, don't you?"

  "Yes, a great many, I should imagine."

  "Then they will have the same here. I bet there's more than a few willing and able to help that bastard slip out of the country."

  "There has to be some other way of tracking him."

  "One man and with this technology, Nylund," Beyett said, "Not a chance."

  "Nothing we can do about him. But we can at least move. I don't want to be within ten miles of this place when Villiers hears of this."

  "So we run?" Harland snarled.

  "We redeploy, like we always do. We are an elite team that fights on our own terms at the place of our choosing. The moment we become fixed, we lose by sheer weight of numbers and logistics. That fact has always remained the same," snapped Corwin.

  "Where do we go?" Vi asked.

  "I have an idea," added Hotwell.

  "Whatever, I don't care, just make sure the kid is brought along with us."

  "I am not sure he..."

  "Just do it," Corwin insisted, "I won't leave him behind."

  * * *

  Less than a few hours later, they passed the sign welcoming them to their new home, an army training camp called Sennybridge. They were travelling in two trucks. Hotwell sat opposite Corwin and four of the others. None of them looked impressed at having to make the trip.

  "This base is miles from anywhere. It is the perfect location to continue our work."

  "And when we actually need to get anywhere, how will we do that?" Lecia asked.

  Corwin could see she longed to have some high-speed transport back like she had become so accustomed.

  "Had it been dry we could have flown in by transport, but the ground is a little soft right now. You will have to forgive that. Wales is not known for being dry all that often. But not to worry, a landing strip is days away from completion, and then we'll have no troubles at all."

  Porter looked around at the base as they entered. It was a wet and bleak site. Despite the fact it was all quite recently built, there was barely a structure over a single storey, and it was nothing more than a concrete wasteland.

  "A few days in this shithole?" he asked.

  "It's no great hardship. I am told there are a few good pubs in the area and a pretty decent NAAFI."

  "So what do we do now?" asked Lecia.

  "We rest, we research, and we wait for orders."

  "Why? Why are we still just fucking around over here? We should be the other side of the Channel and taking heads," replied Porter.

  "What is it with you? We always followed orders, even when we were out in the sticks for months on end. We weren't a freelance outfit."

  "No we weren't, but we are now, aren't we?"

  "No," replied Hotwell, "You are soldiers in the British Army."

  Porter laughed.

  "Don't mind him. He's an asshole. He always was an asshole, and the only thing that's ever likely to change is he'll become an even bigger asshole," replied Corwin.

  Lecia smiled, and they all knew it was true.

  The trucks drew to a halt, and Porter was the first to leap out. He landed in a puddle of water that had accumulated on the hard standing, and it splashed up around him. He looked about in disgust.

  "What a shithole," he said loud enough for everyone to hear.

  "We aren't here on vacation. You don't have to like it. You just have to live with it." Corwin jumped down beside him.
>
  A drill instructor was taking a unit of infantry through their paces on the square in the distance. Nobody came to greet them, but they didn't care. Corwin turned his attention to the ambulance where Hunter was being unloaded. He stepped up beside the stretcher and saw the kid groan slightly as he was lowered out of the vehicle. He was only just conscious.

  "Still with us?"

  "Yeah," he muttered.

  "All right, get him inside and make him comfortable," said Corwin.

  "I have no idea how he survived those injuries," Hotwell said as he was whisked away.

  "That kid has survived more than you can ever imagine. More than any of us can. He has known a total apocalypse and solitary survival that I wouldn't wish on any man."

  "This time you come from. It doesn't exactly sound worth fighting for?"

  Corwin nodded.

  "I can see why you might think that, but in this time, your time. You are embroiled in a world war that will see a huge proportion of the population dead, and technologies that will scare you to death. You are yet to see the worst of it, and Villiers may only add to that devastation, and yet you go on."

  "Because I knew something better before all this madness. Did you?"

  Corwin shrugged. It was true; they were blunt instruments of war that had never known any different.

  "Then perhaps you can educate us and bring some civilisation to our lives so that we might understand what it is we fight for now."

  "I thought you fought to get Villiers. To save your future."

  The team all looked to him now, waiting to hear what had been on their minds since they arrived. He took a deep breath and tried to find some way to break it to them. As he did, he felt the first specs of rain hit his face, and within seconds they stood in the pouring rain. But nobody moved as they waited to hear what he had to say.

  "We are still in this for Villiers, but not for the reasons we used to know. We went after him to put an end to the war we knew. That war has not happened yet, and will not happen in our lifetime, if it happens at all. There is no going back. We hunt Villiers now because of the damage he can do in this place and time. We do it for the same reason that Captain Hotwell signed up to fight Hitler. Villiers might as well be Hitler, as far as we are concerned. You used to worry about bringing an end to our war, but what if we could ensure the war never even started?"