Time War: Onslaught Read online

  "Hundreds...thousands. Probably a lot more than you would think."

  "This is a different war to anything you ever knew," Beyett said to him, "Even before Villiers arrival, it was based on espionage and subterfuge. However large scale and gruesome the history books tell us, the war fought in the shadows is something we never experienced."

  "You're saying we come from a simpler time?" Vi asked, taken aback.

  "Yes, precisely," replied Beyett, "You think our time was savage and brutal, but it is nothing compared to the complex nature of this time. We lived in a wasteland where we could roam free as a bird. But here, there are defined fronts, endless networks of spies, sabotage, and espionage. What small amount did exist in those forms in our time, we never had any part of. Look at us, we were little more than an execution squad that roamed wild, picking and choosing fights on our terms, and vanished again without a trace."

  "Like the SSRF, the Long Range Desert Group. That is exactly what they are like, and I guess our commanders can imagine the potential for what you could do on a large scale in such a fashion," added Hotwell.

  "So we go back to our same old ways?"

  "That wouldn't be so bad would it, Beyett?" Harland asked, "Kill Nazis one by one every day till there are none left, definitely not so bad."

  "Think you can kill about a thousand a day every day of the week all year round? Because that is what it would take to make a difference."

  "I'd give it a shot," replied Harland with a smile.

  It was clear that he meant it, too. All he wanted was be up to his waist in bodies. He was a barbarian. A brutal warrior who seemed to exist only to kill and would be happy to do that until the day he died. He didn't even seem to care who he was killing.

  "What else are you going to do? Keep moping around trying to find an invisible man hidden inside the greatest fortress in the world that is Nazi Germany. Even if we had air supremacy over the continent, we could at least gather intel at a useful rate, but we don't. We get by on a few scraps, and the best our agents can provide as they risk their lives in the field every day, the same as you do. So yes, if you want to sit by and let this war go on while you pursue one man, then be my guest. I cannot stop you. But the end of the war will catch up with you quicker than you think," said Hotwell.

  "What do you mean?"

  Hotwell wiped the blood from his face and sat down on the ground, as he felt a little faint and weak.

  "Beyett, we aren't winning this war. We are barely even holding our ground. No matter what the propaganda campaign is telling you about us holding back the Nazi tide, we are barely hanging in here. If Britain falls, then we lose Europe, and we will never get it back. Think the Americas will be safe? Think again. If Hitler can bring us to our knees this easily, then he will soon cross the ocean and continue his reign of terror."

  Nobody had anything to say. Corwin understood his perspective, but he knew he could not explain Villiers' significance in any more certain terms.

  "So, will you submit to the command of his Majesty's forces? Will you fight for us like you say you want to?"

  "There is a lot more going on here than you realise. It's a complex situation," said Beyett.

  "No, it isn't. We need the best fighters to fight for us. You are it. And if the best we have aren't fully committed to the battle at hand, we have no hope at all."

  Corwin stepped forward, offered out his hand, and hauled Hotwell back onto his feet.

  "I hear you, but I need to think carefully about this. It's hard to give up on a mission that is years in the making, and we know is vital, even if you don't."

  Hotwell nodded in appreciation.

  "In the meantime, please chase up whoever you need to with regards to Tano. I guarantee you that we need him. Whatever has to be done will be done. If I have to break him out of whatever cell he is in with my own hands, I will do so. You say you need good fighters, then don't leave them rotting in a cell."

  "I will do the best I can."

  * * *

  "I got you this meeting, but I don't think you are going to like what the Colonel has to say," Hotwell said to Corwin as they wound their way through country lanes in the back of a box shaped four-door utility wagon. His face had bruised up badly, but he seemed to be mostly recovered. Beyett was up front and Lecia sat in the trunk, firmly gripping her rifle and watching every inch of the scenery like a hawk.

  "A Colonel? Is that the best you could manage?" Beyett asked.

  "He doesn't mean any offence, but we expect to be taken seriously," Corwin said quickly before he could respond.

  The Captain spluttered a little before finally getting a few words out.

  "I don't think the Colonel will appreciate being talked about in such a fashion. He is a highly decorated gentleman of the previous war. A fighting man who went through some of the worst of it."

  "Well that's something at least."

  "But I have no doubt that is why he is being sent. Reliable, stiff upper lipped, approachable, and completely unwavering. He will present himself as your friend, and then convince you to stand down on this course of action. I have no doubt that he was very carefully selected for this task."

  "So we are being played?"

  "No more than anyone else would be."

  They rolled up to a track that led to a small farmhouse. It was in the middle of nowhere and seemed a bizarre location to hold what was not really a secret or particularly significant gathering. It was the middle of the day, and one could see clearly for miles where there was no foliage to block the view.

  "Stop here," Corwin ordered.

  The driver looked confused and looked around for Hotwell's permission. Corwin was not impressed.

  "Stop right here!" he boomed.

  The driver slammed on the brakes. The wheels locked up on the loose ground, and they slid to a halt.

  "What are you doing?" Hotwell demanded.

  "Lecia, move out, and cover us from the tree line."

  "No," Hotwell said firmly, though it was clear in his tone that somehow Corwin was ruining a plan.

  "What aren't you telling us?"

  Hotwell looked flustered but knew he had no choice other than to come out with it.

  "They know we are coming, exactly who and how many. If Lecia leaves this vehicle, then it will arouse suspicion."

  "Suspicion? You want us to trust this situation when you give us no reason? It is not a location of our choosing, and I want to make fucking sure it’s secure."

  "Of course it is secure."

  "So...it isn't the Germans they fear, but us."

  "You have to understand, Beyett. You are beyond what any of us can fully comprehend. You are powerful, but you are also dangerous, as your colleague Tano has already demonstrated. Don't you think it is reasonable that this officer shows a little caution?"

  Corwin sighed.

  "All we have done for this war and this country in the little time we have been here, and even now you still doubt us?"

  "Wouldn't you?" Beyett murmured.

  "Maybe, but we have no reason to trust them any more than they do us. I don't like going in blind."

  "Please, Captain. This Colonel is one of the good ones. I would bet my life on it. Trust me in this, and we may yet get somewhere with your man Tano."

  Lecia did not look impressed. She shoved the tailgate open and began to climb out when Corwin yelled, "Stop!"

  She froze and looked to him for an explanation.

  "It's not ideal, but if this is the way it has to be, so be it."

  "It’s crazy, going in with no eyes, no ears, no support. We would never have done that."

  "No, not never, it's precisely what we did when we went after Villiers."

  "Yeah, and look how far that got us."

  "We have to give these people a chance. Get in," Corwin said forcefully.

  Her shoulders hunched down, and she looked far from happy, but the only thing that would cause her greater concern would be to not follow orders. She gave off
the impression of a rebel, but she was as loyal as they come.

  "We should have brought the team," she muttered.

  "We are here to talk, not to fight," said Beyett.

  "When have we ever managed one without the other?"

  "First time for everything," replied Corwin.

  He nodded to the driver, and they rolled on as Lecia slammed the tailgate shut. As they passed the farmhouse, they saw an officer’s staff car and two jeeps parked up beside it. Two soldiers stood guard on the front door, and they could see another two in windows on the first floor.

  "There'll be more in the tree line," said Lecia.

  "Of course."

  "Then we should all feel safe," said Hotwell.

  Lecia didn't look satisfied, and she looked around in all directions, trying to pinpoint any potential threats. The vehicle drew to a halt beside the others, and they got out. As the engine cut off, they noticed the quietness. It was a bleak and dull day with moderate visibility. Were it not for a light wind, there would be complete silence.

  "You see, nobody could get within a mile of this place without being heard," said Hotwell.

  "Never make that assumption," replied Corwin, "Do you know how many men have been unstuck because they assumed they were untouchable?"

  "Point taken."

  "What do you want me to do?" Lecia was eager to find an elevated position, but Corwin shook his head.

  "Shoulder that weapon. We come here as guests. You're coming in there with us."

  "I'm not one for negotiating."

  "Well, join the club."

  Hotwell led them through the sentries, and Corwin was glad to see they did not even question the weapons they were carrying. It was a good sign. They came into an old rustic kitchen where a slightly overweight but tough looking elderly Colonel sat at the table in the centre. One of his staff was making a hot drink at the stove. The Colonel leapt to his feet rather spritely for his age and came forward to greet Corwin with a beaming smile.

  "So you are the fine chap who’s been sticking it to Hitler recently. A pleasure to meet you, I am Colonel Wilkes. Please sit down."

  Corwin took a seat with Hotwell. Beyett and Lecia stayed back against the far wall. The Colonel seemed enthralled by Lecia, who he studied from head to toe.

  "Fascinating that you yanks are getting women into action alongside the boys. I can't say I am surprised. We need all the fighting bodies we can get. The Soviets knew that early on, not that it saved them. Now, what is it that I can do for you?"

  "Colonel, we were hoping..." Hotwell began.

  "Everyone knows why we are here, so what is it you have to say?" Corwin interrupted.

  "Straight to the point, I can respect that," replied Wilkes, "And I will do you the honour of returning the favour. The answer is no. No matter the reason, and no matter what you say, we cannot let that man go free."

  "Then what are we even doing here?"

  "You pushed this further to go up the chain of command, despite the fact you know he can never be set free. I am sure Captain Hotwell has already explained how severe this situation is. The Prime Minister may not be your leader, but you are on our soil."

  "And if I told you that letting Tano come back to us could make the difference between winning and losing this war?"

  The Colonel shook his head. "No one man is that important to the war effort. We are all little pieces of a great machine."

  "You are wrong," said Lecia, as she lurked in the corner.

  The Colonel was shocked and a little surprised. He didn't know how to respond, and she managed to go on before he could find his words.

  "We aren't like you. We aren't human, as you know human to be. We are greater than the sum of our number. I thought you’d got that by now, but clearly you haven't. One of us is more valuable than a hundred of your finest soldiers, maybe more so."

  "That's a little presumptuous."

  "Maybe so, but it doesn't make it any less true," replied Corwin.

  Wilkes looked to Hotwell for some explanation, but he shrugged.

  "They really are. Until you have seen this team in action, you wouldn't believe it. They are what this country needs, and if they say Tano is essential to that, then I am inclined to agree."

  Wilkes sighed, knowing that they were at loggerheads.

  "You really are telling me that he is vital to your team and to the war?"

  Corwin nodded.

  "And you would give me your word that you will ensure he does not act against us?"

  "I do."

  He sighed again and rubbed his brow, trying to come to some kind of solution.

  "And if we cannot free your man?" he finally asked.

  "We are here to support one another, but if we do not get that support, we will have little motivation to go forward in the direction your superiors would desire. We never signed up to this army, and we aren't even of your nation. We help because we choose to. I think we've done more than enough to ask for a little back."

  "Well you pushed for it, and you're going to get it. You know I was sent here to put a stop to this, but now we have met face-to-face, I can see you are more than just a pain in the arse. I'll carry this forward for you. No promises, but you have my word that if there is any way I can help you, I will."

  "Thank you, I..."

  "But...I expect the continued support of you and your team. We need all the help we can get, do I have your assurance you will do that?"

  "Yes," replied Corwin solemnly.

  "Then we are done here. I will get on this immediately and be back to your man Hotwell here with any news. But trust me when I say I am far from certain that what you want can be achieved, but winning the war, that can be. I hope you will fight the enemy as hard as I will fight your corner at every level."

  "You have my word."

  He got up and shook Corwin's hand.

  "Then there is no time to lose. It was a pleasure to meet you, Captain, and good luck."

  Wilkes stepped out to the door of the farmhouse and past the two soldiers who had been waiting for him. Corwin looked to Hotwell and nodded in appreciation.

  "He is your best hope," the Captain reassured him.

  The silence was broken by the crack of a gun firing, and they heard a body slump to the ground outside. Corwin rushed to the door.

  "Wait!" Beyett yelled.

  Corwin reached the door and saw the Colonel lying on the floor. He was still breathing but bleeding heavily from a chest wound. One of the soldiers rushed to his side; the other was looking around, frantically trying to find the shooter. A second shot rang out and hit the man in the chest. He collapsed screaming in agony. Corwin ran out of the cover of the doorway towards the Colonel. A hail of bullets struck all around them, and they heard the almost zip like gunfire of a German light machine gun. He ducked back for cover as shots hit the doorframe, and wood splitters cut into his cheek, narrowly missing his eye.

  He looked back from the cover of the hallway. The other soldier was cut down, and the Colonel riddled with bullets. The wounded soldier was desperately making for the door while attempting to put pressure on his own wound. He was hobbling and wincing in pain. Just as he got to the door, he was struck in his back by a burst of shots. He fell forward in the doorway. His Sten gun slid forward along the floor until it stopped near Corwin, who quickly picked it up. He rushed to the body and pulled out eight magazines from the dead man, stuffing them into the pouches on his body armour.

  The little submachine gun felt like a toy in his hands, but it was a step up from the pistol that was all he had been carrying. He heard bursts of fire coming from the rooms above where the remaining soldiers were returning fire. The German machine gun still rattled in the distance, and beyond what he knew the Stens were particularly effective.

  "Take that gun out!"

  But even as the words bellowed from his throat, he heard a large calibre rifle fire a single shot overhead, and the gunner was immediately silenced. He knew it could only have been Le
cia. She must have headed to higher ground at the first sign of trouble. But the gun soon opened fire once more as another took over. Corwin went back to the door with his Sten and peered around the corner. He half expected to see a wave of soldiers rushing towards them, but all was silent now. Beyett was hunkered down beside one of the windows and Hotwell doing the same across the room. They each had sidearms only.

  "Now do you see why we wanted to bring help?"

  "I don't see how the enemy could have known about any of this, let alone how they got here."

  "Never underestimate your enemy, and always assume they can reach out to you at all times."

  "This little sit down may yet be the end of us," added Beyett.

  "Easy now, we haven't even got started yet. How much ammo do you have?"

  "Only a few rounds," replied Hotwell.

  "Few mags," added Beyett.

  "Any more weapons around?"

  They shook their heads.

  "So only back in the vehicle, and probably more ammo in those jeeps."

  "I doubt they'd be carrying much," replied Hotwell. Nobody travelling around these parts would be expecting to fight a battle."

  "Nope, and that's just why we're in this shit right now. But it's time to dig ourselves out."

  He threw the Sten into Beyett's hands and held out two extra mags for him.

  "You are going to cover us from this door."

  "Us?"

  "That's right, Captain, you're coming with me. It's time to turn the tables on these assholes."

  CHAPTER 4

  "How the hell did we end up in this mess?"

  Corwin looked at Hotwell scornfully; they both knew the answer. He knelt down by the doorway and peered around for just a second. He noticed the glint of sunlight reflect from a riflescope, and he ducked back just in time as a bullet struck the stonework where his head had just been. A shot from above soon followed it, and Corwin had no doubt that Lecia had dealt with the problem. He gestured for Beyett to step up beside him.

  "Ready?"

  Hotwell looked the most terrified. He was the only one of them not wearing body armour.

  "Time to rise to the occasion, Captain, on three. Three, two, one!"