The New Grantville Incident (SaS; Attn Unbroken Union)

[Saxon Germany]

Callisto was a dark, barren place, a small moon orbiting the great orb that was Jupiter. It was divided equally between the prosperous settlers of the United States of America...and the dark foundry mines of the Fourth Reich. No contact was had between the two. The Germans sat in their domes, working day in and day out to supply the great ships that plied the routes between the Sol Sytem possessions of the Reich and thence back there to fuel the foundries and the warmachines of that dismal place. No contact was had...until now.

The colony was a small one, typical of the American frontiersmen way of life that had erupted on their off-world possessions. New Grantville was typical of such settlements, no more than about two-hundred souls making a living from the mining and surveying jobs that could be found on their half of Callisto. It had bars, habitats for the people, clinics, even emergency stations, all part of the standard frontier colony package set up wherever the United States set up shop. But it wasn't a fortress. And that would prove to be its undoing.

They came in low and fast, just sweeping above the horizon. Three 'Adler'-class transports, wings forward-swept like a bird of prey and decked out into the grey, blue and black flecktarn camouflage of the Raumwaffe, hurtled over the ground at breakneck speeds, circling up from out of the horizon towards New Grantville. Within a few minutes they'd landed just fifty metres away from the domes, belly ramps opening to disgorge a small force. Elite Schutzstaffel troopers cradling heavy Gausshantkanone towered over the averagely sized Volksgrenadiers accompanying them, their long lasgewehrs seeming almost toy-like in comparison to the bulky instruments of death the SS carried. They slithered in three distinct columns towards the slope where the domes edge bit into rock, five SS to each group along with ten to fifteen Volksgrenadiers as support for that Feurgruppe.

They quickly made it to the outer skin of each dome, spreading out to cover three different directions. One SS trooper in each feurgruppe had a bundle of explosives that magnetically clamped onto the domeskin. All ducked back as they were triggered, air rushing out of the great wounds torn into the abdomen of the colony. The SS moved first, cannons traversing with the aim of their ominous green-lensed helmets. The normal Volksgrenadiers followed on behind, wary of getting too close to the SS troopers who practically oozed the scent of blood and death. A vac-suited rescue and repair crew were the first to die, running into the guns of the second feurgruppe. Hyper-accelerated gauss rounds tore them to pieces where they stood, blood and bone fragments scattered across the hallways, shattered bodies left to run their blood into the decking of the corridor as the boots of the Reich soldiers trampled on them.

The first feurgruppe came upon a small warehouse that serviced a storefront. The panicky voices of the inhabitants betrayed the confusion paramount in the thoughts of the New Grantville colonists, and gave the lead SS trooper, a tattooed, menacing figure, thickset with corded muscle and an aura of violence suffusing him, an idea. He barked and growled, forming his brethren into a firing line facing the warehouse exit while the Volksgrenadiers stacked up on either side. Then, with a single swipe of one meaty paw, he signalled the order to fire. Round after round pummelled the metal gate, tearing great gouges through. Then the shells found the screaming customers. Within seconds, the battered gate simply fell forwards, letting the Volksgrenadiers storm in and cut the survivors down with brutal loose las-rounds.

Now the battle for New Grantville would truly begin.

[The Unbroken Union]

United States Army Command Post, New Grantville, Callisto, Sol

"Incoming contacts, no time to shoot them down. Activate the guard." The command center was kept pleasantly warm against the chill air that even the powerful colony enviro-systems couldn't totally banish, and the bright lights lit up the faces of the skeleton watch tasked with the defense of the outpost. The speaker was a woman, with the look of a newly minted second lieutenant on her first deployment. Her brown hair was cut short, and curled up slightly on itself. The first alarms started to wail just moments before the breaching charges blasted through the wall of the colony and all hell broke loose.

Inside the command center a compartment opened up, revealing the armor of the soldiers stationed there. All of them were kitted out for close combat with flechette guns, combat shields, and pistols. The objective of any sensible enemy would be to take and eliminate this point, and the soldiers manning it were outfitted to best keep that from happening. The Lieutenant stepped into her armor, with the name "Peets" stenciled in black on the left breast, and immediately turned back to monitoring the situation, and watched the slaughter in the warehouse unfold.


Sector Seven, New Grantville, Callisto, Sol
Attack +10 Minutes

In the streets things were devolving into a bloodbath. Nazi SS troopers were gunning down civilians like dogs, but they weren't having it all their own way. Civilians in the United States regularly carried personal firearms, and while they couldn't hope to scratch the armor of the monstrous Schutzstaffel, several of the Volksgrenadier had already died at the hands of armed and desperate civilians. Police were rare in New Grantville, but the few officers that did exist put their issue guns to good use, cutting down an entire team of the lightly armored soldiers before the SS smashed them into bloody paste. All across the city resistance was congealing in the face of this brutal and unwarranted assault.

United States Army Command Post, New Grantville, Callisto, Sol
Attack +20 Minutes

"Gentlemen, prepare to deploy, I want one man per squad equipped as anti-armor and the rest of you carrying rifleman loadouts. These people have heavier armor than we can match, but they're also much bigger targets. Deploy as you come on line." There was only one understrength platoon assigned to New Grantville, in case things got very out of hand, but they would have to be enough. They moved out on foot, servo-assisted muscles covering ground at an amazing rate. The first clash between United States soldiers and SS Troopers was an accident.

At the site of the storefront massacre a single fire team walked almost directly into the hulking tattoed brute who had orchestrated the carnage. They managed to get off a single shot each, in the direction of the inhuman beasts before they were gunned down. The remaining fire team took cover behind a shattered wall, peppering the SS with antimatter cored bullets.

"Jimmy! They fuckin shot Jimmy! One of the men burst from cover, sprinting across the open ground towards his downed comrade, unloading his submachinegun as he ran. The weight of fire suppressed the SS response just long enough for him to drag back the wounded soldier. "Jimmy, it's gonna be ok, Doc's on his way."

The American built powered armor had shattered under the fire of the heavy guns, and Jimmy's leg had been nearly amputated at the hip. Only the life support and medical system built directly into the armor had saved him, cutting off the flow of blood and instantly sending him into unconsciousness with a a precisely calculated amount of drugs.

Warehouse District, New Grantville, Callisto, Sol

While the first American casualties were already dieing under the guns of the German aggressors, across the city things looked to be working out exactly the other way around.

"Best get ready with that cannon son..." The sergeant was a rarity in the army, a black man in command of whites, but he was undeniably competent. His armor was studded with heavy weapons, from his personal BAR, to a mounted anti-personnel flamer, and a deadly grenade launcher. "We're gonna hit that corner running. I want you to pick one and kill it dead. The rest of you, combine fire on my target. If it doesn't drop, we run like hell once we use up our clips. We can't match these freaks in a straight fight. You all have the next rally point if we get separated."

The soldiers, just seven of them, including the sergeant, checked over their weapons one last time before rounding the corner. The SS were busy pouring their fire into a school, and the soldiers took ruthless advantage of their distraction with their wanton slaughter. The muted thump of the bazooka launching its payload was the first warning they had, and would likely be their last. The Sergeant picked a single trooper, and the remaining five soldiers took their aim from him. Sixty rounds of antimatter cored .30-06 rounds hammered away at a single target, releasing their payloads in devastating micro explosions. As the last round burst free from his rifle, Sergeant Scatto launched a single smoke grenade from his shoulder box, covering the retreat of the rapidly escaping squad.

[Saxon Germany]

Sector Seven, New Grantville, Callisto, Sol

Feuergruppe Eins had finished the butchery at the storefront when the first American troops appeared. Their armour looked impressive to the unaugmented Volksgrenadiers, now few in number after the surprise counter-attack of normal colonists carrying their own guns. To the SS troopers, and especially the behemoth leading them, they were as toys. The first team of Americans fell to the massed guns of the SS, bodies crumpling where the slugs tore through and into them while their own feeble reply did little but damage the armour plates each SS trooper wore.

The second team did far more damage. One SS trooper lost his legs to the hail of anti-matter rounds, while the others hurled themselves into cover. They bellowed foul oaths and threats over the din of the firefight, occasionally leaning out of cover to fire off brief spurts from their cannons. The overly large leader pulled a small stick-like object from a waist pouch, pulling a pin embedded in the bottom out and tossing it to land near the cover of the US soldiers. "Hantgrenate!" he roared.

Warehouse District, New Grantville, Callisto, Sol

The monstrous SS troopers of Feuergruppe Zwei in the main warehouse district staggered as the rounds fired by the power-armoured US troops hit them. "Amis! Amis soldaten!" they bellowed in unison, like a hideous pack creature. One simply disintegrated from the waist up from the sheer volume of fire raised by the American troops. The other SS trooper was unluckier, hit straight in the face by the bazooka round. Its head simply burst and the torso exploded, throwing singed body parts everywhere. The survivors raised their cannons to volley their reply, their solid-slug rounds tearing through the smoke cover left by the US soldiers blindly.

They roared a barbarous warcry before loping off in pursuit of the Americans, gunning down all in their path.

That left only Feuergruppe Drei, slithering through the havoc towards their destination...the US Army command post, New Grantville Colony.

[The Unbroken Union]

Sector Seven, New Grantville, Callisto, Sol

"Frag inbound!" The squad leader snatched up the grenade as it came over the wall, and flung it back towards the SS troopers before it exploded between the two groups. A single piece of shrapnel lanced through Sergeant Hagerman's upper arm as he ducked back behind his cover, but the piece passed cleanly through his arm, leaving a ragged bleeding wound, but not much else. His suit sealed the wound and issued a painkiller, keeping him from dropping into shock, or being crippled by the injury.

His surviving men continued to trade fire with the SS. One of the men grabbed out a pair of nearly identical grenades, the first was a smoke canister, the second incendiary. He tossed the first one over, pouring smoke as it went. The second followed a few seconds later, shanked off to the right, landing almost at the feet of one of the SS troopers. Hopefully the deception with the smoke grenade would convince him the grenade itself was no threat.

Fire continued to crack back and forth between the two positions, and two more of the American soldiers dropped from lucky shots. Only two survivors were left, the injured sergeant Hagerman, and a private. More grenades flipped out from behind the wall, frags and smokes, tossed at random as the desperate survivors prepared to run for their lives.

Warehouse District, New Grantville, Callisto, Sol

The smoke badly hindered the fire of the German soldiers. Many of their rounds came close, but none of them hit before the fleeing Americans had escaped around another corner, flipping a frag grenade behind them to discourage pursuit. They continued on for three more blocks, taking seemingly random turns, before doubling back and paralleling their track, and preparing another ambush. The first German to come into sight would take another bazooka round to the chest. The second would receive a second application of concentrated firepower. The third would have to chase down the once again fleeing Americans. There was no question about the light armor of the GIs standing up to the firepower of the brutal SS guns, so their only option was to draw their enemies into ambush after ambush.

"All stations this net. Concentrate your fire on single targets. Their armor is resistant to our bullets, but if you hit them often enough it'll crumble just like anything else. Make them pay." Sergeant Scatto released his mike. He'd done everything he could for the rest of the men. He had no idea how well they were faring, but he had severe reservations about how the battle was playing out.

United States Army Command Post, New Grantville, Callisto, Sol

"Elltee, we have SS on our doorstep. Autoguns are online, but I don't think they'll hold them off for long." Outside the command center a trio of automated fifty caliber machineguns cut loose on the advancing SS, walking their fire across the Volksgrenadiers and armored SS alike. Each round was nearly twice the size of the standard thirty caliber rounds used by an M1. The bullets alone could splash a man across an entire room, and antimatter cored rounds were even more powerful, capable of rendering a human target into something unrecognizable without forensics.

Inside the command center the techs prepared to defend their base with their lives, but they already knew their weapons were woefully inadequate to the task.

[Saxon Germany]

Sector Seven, New Grantville, Callisto

One brute looked down at the small object that had landed at its feet, before turning away to carry on firing. That changed as soon as the incendiary detonated, throwing a sheet of flame over its shambling form, melting the carapace armour onto its skin while screaming animalistic bellows of agony emanated from the mask. It rolled on the floor, trying to put the flames out before yet another grenade landed by it. The frag exploded, tearing apart the SS trooper in a welter of blood.

The brute who led the first feuergruppe growled as another frag grenade exploded nearby and peppered its meaty leg with red-hot shrapnel. It stood, loosing an unnerving warcry before leaping the counter it had been sheltering behind and barrelling towards the American troops. It fired from the hip, burst after burst of slugs to keep their heads down. All the while the other three SS troopers in the same unit increased their fire, hoping to give enough time for their leader to make it to the Amis.

Warehouse District, New Grantville, Callisto

The first of the SS troopers around the corner did hit the grenade, both of his legs torn away to reveal bloody stumps as it lay on the ground growling in pain. The other two carried onwards, sure that they would soon have the Americans in their sights. The first around the corner died as the bazooka round hit it square in the chest, blowing it apart with a sound like a hand slapping flesh. The last remaining SS trooper of Feuergruppe Zwei died in the hail of fire from the light guns of the Americans, a savage curse on its lips.

United States Army Command Post, New Grantville, Callisto

The sentry guns devastated the ranks of the Volksgrenadiers, killing all of them within seconds. Most of the SS remained unharmed, protected by their heavy plate armour and the protection offered by the Volksgrenadiers bodies. Only one was injured, with one bullet reducing its hand to chopped meat. Undaunted, it merely braced its cannon on its wrist rather than holding it in its hand.

The other four SS troopers quickly reduced the sentry guns to smoking wreckage with fire from their cannons before all five marched up to the door. One pulled out another bundle of explosives from a satchel before clamping it onto the section where the door met the wall. Quickly attaching the vicious saw-tooth bayonets they favoured onto their weapons, they ducked behind cover, heads turned away from the explosion, before they detonated. All of them stormed in through the dust cloud, cannons up and chattering without mercy, thrusting savagely at anything that looked vaguely human.

[The Unbroken Union]

Sector Seven, New Grantville, Callisto

"Specialist. It's been nice knowing you. Get back to the command post. There's nothing more you can do here." Sergeant James Hagerman wasn't an old man, but he'd had a reasonably long life, and he'd done his duty. Now there was just one thing left. As the SS man charged across the empty ground he dropped a smoke grenade at his feet, racked his last fifty round drum into his Thompson, and stood up in plain sight, before opening fire. He didn't bother to target the man running. He wouldn't be a threat, but the firing troopers were. There was almost no light left in the dome, and the flashes of fire from the submachine gun lit up the scene like a strobe light, flashing again and again as the magazine burned its way towards empty. "Best start running boy."

Specialist Barret wasn't a particularly bright soldier, but he understood what was happening almost immediately. He took one look at the charging trooper, grabbed a dead soldiers ammunition pouch, and took off running. The streets around the accidental battlefield were clogged with bodies and wreckage from the rampage that had brought their enemies to this point, but it was still clear enough for him to make good time down the street and around the corner before any of the surviving troops could take a bead on him and gun him down. "Get some Sarge."

At Sergeant Hagermans feet, the wounded soldier he had risked his life to save earlier groaned and stirred. "Sarge.. We win yet?"

In the frantic fight to stay alive, the wounded soldier had been almost forgotten. Now that he was awake again, he would almost certainly be killed by the vengeful enemy. "Just stay down and play dead Jimmy. Medevac will be on the way soon as we clear this bunch of butchers out." As he spoke the last rounds ejected their still smoking cases from his gun, and he threw it to the ground, drawing his monomolecular edged fighting knife, and jumping forward into the charge of the rampaging juggernaut. His knife was sharp, as sharp as anything could be without technological enhancements, and it found a weak point in the shoulder of the attackers armor, before the screaming chainsaw bayonet slammed into his chest, ending his assault with a spray of blood and armor pieces to rival being hit with a grenade. The first contact between American soldiers and Nazi stormtroopers had ended in almost total devastation for the Americans, but they had managed to take some of their enemies with them, and it was largely considered to be a fair exchange.

Warehouse District, New Grantville, Callisto

"Command, this is third squad. All targets have been reduced in this area. Continuing with our designated search pattern." The sergeant was already moving his men farther into the city, through a zone free from destruction. So far he had had no contact with higher command, but that all changed as his earpiece crackled with static for a moment, before a voice came over it.

"Scatto, belay that order. We are recalling your squad to base. First is gone. Only one survivor for certain. You will rendezvous with him at the command center, re-equip with Thompsons, and sweep the base. We have penetration of the facility. Second will remain in the city and sweep for the team that destroyed second." No one was entirely sure where the headquarters squad had been during the short but brutal firefights throughout the city, but from the sounds of things, they had gathered up a few surviving civilians, and were escorting them to a safe place before sweeping the remainder of the city.

"Understood sir. Redeploying." He didn't say a word to his soldiers yet, just changed direction at the next corner, heading back towards the army base on the outskirts.

United States Army Command Post, New Grantville, Callisto, Sol

"We're closing up shop. Set the charges on your equipment and out the back door." Lieutenant Peets was not a combat soldier. By law, she could not be a combat soldier. That did not mean that the SS thugs would not kill her and every one of her techs if they found them here.

"Ma'am, where to?" The soldier asking the question was another woman, she clutched her shotgun nervously, knowing for certain now that her weapon was less than useless against the armored behemoths that were storming through the shattered door to the base.

"The armoury. I have the access codes, and we can get the M3 out. Once we're in the half track we can either get away, or mow those bastards down with the fifty." The final destruct sequence took only a few minutes to key in, and would keep the Nazis from getting any secure data. It might also happen to kill one or two of the unlucky soldiers tasked with fiddling with the computers. With the final destruct codes set, the technicians and their superior slipped out the one way rear door, and abandoned their post.

[Saxon Germany]

Sector Seven, New Grantville, Callisto

The leader of the first feuergruppe looked down at the ruined corpse of the American soldier, ignoring the faint buzz of his bayonet's motor running. He'd died bravely, but foolishly after all. Did not the Fuhrer teach that victory was the only reason to die for a soldier? He looked over to his men idly kicking the bodies for signs of life. For a brief flicker of a moment he could have sworn that one of them had moved. Uncaring, he rubbed a finger in the slit the American had carved into his right shoulder, blood covering the digit which he smeared over the helmet of the dead sergeant in a crimson swastika.

Then he dug his fingers into the exposed innards of the corpse. Pulling his hand out, he smeared the fresh blood down the front of his helmet, leaving five vivid streaks over the faceplate. Turning, he growled to the others. "Vorwarts." As one they strode off, ready to battle the Amis again.

United States Army Command Post, New Grantville, Callisto

For Feuergruppe Drei, their entrance into the command centre was a disappointment. The room was barren of the American soldiers who should have been garrisoning it, leaving only computers behind. All of them voiced their displeasure with the cowardice of the Americans in savage earthy growls and curses. The one with the mutilated fist began energetically pounding consoles to destruction with its one good hand.Then the beeping began. It peered through the helmet lenses at the display. It showed a...countdown. It turned and roared at its fellows, a loud cry of "Raus! Raus!" They stormed outside again, dashing around the nearest corner before the explosion could claim them.

[The Unbroken Union]

Sector Seven, New Grantville, Callisto

The SS men had killed almost an entire squad for no appreciable loss, but they had not gotten away scott free. One of the buildings near the site of the skirmish had been an electronics supply store. Among the many devices available for sale were many varieties of video recording devices. The employee emerging from behind the counter was a veteran, like most of the settlers on Callisto. He had had the foresight to dive behind the counter when the firing started, and stay out of sight. When the American soldiers arrived, he had taken a chance on setting up the camera on the countertop, watching the short but brutal firefight play out. Now he retrieved the camera from its resting place on the counter, calmly walked outside, picked up an M1 and ammunition from the fallen, and began making his way towards the docks. It fit two criteria. It had a transmitter, to reach one of the orbiting warships, and it also happened to be directly away from where the SS had gone.

On the ground, unnoticed by the man in his haste to escape, a single American soldier was still alive, barely clinging to life as his armor struggled to keep his shattered body functioning.

United States Army Command Post, New Grantville, Callisto

The center was breached, and all of the sensitive data was destroyed, but the techs were still in danger. As a group they ran out the back door and into the main compound. It wasn't very large, as such things go, designed to house no more than a company at maximum, but it was awkwardly set up from the standpoint of the soldiers attempting to escape bloody death at the hands of the rampaging fascists. The command center had been placed with defense in mind, and the barracks, armory and motorpool were all placed with a mind towards easy access and exit in case of emergency. What this meant, in practical terms, was that in order to reach the safety of one of the infantry M3s, they would be forced to cross nearly three hundred yards of open ground, with nothing to use as cover. Their best hope was that the Nazis had simply gotten lost inside the labyrinthine complex of offices and equipment housed in the lower levels. Without looking back, Lieutenant Peets led the mad dash across the parade field, towards the safety of the nearly impenetrable armory.

Third Squad, First Platoon, Bravo Company, 11th Airborne Infantry Regiment

"Jenkins, take point. Ringo, you're in ass end charlie. Everybody else, watch your zones. There's at least two more squads of these bastards out there." The platoon leaders squad was composed almost entirely of veterans from previous conflicts, and they slipped quickly into their assigned roles. Their Thompson machine gunner took the lead, sweeping the streets ahead of them for targets. The bulk of the squad, including their Bazooka and their BAR gunner stayed in the center of the formation, such as it was. At the tail end was a single troop, with nothing but his M1. It was a shitty spot to be in, but somebody had to take it, and better someone at least partially expendable, rather than a necessary heavy weapons gunner.

The squad was travelling through the wreckage of Sector Two, a residential area. The Nazis had slaughtered the civilians here, and destroyed many of the homes, but there were a number of Volksgrenadier corpses as well, and it was apparent that the citizens had not died without a fight. The pather they were following was actually leading deeper into the city, and away from the base, towards one of the cities two commercial areas, and the last known location of first squad.

Orbit, Escort Carrier Kitkun Bay

"Skipper, we're reading heavy outgassing from New Grantville. Probable breach of atmosphere. Shall I attempt to make contact?" The sensor tech was very new to his job, but he had the most advanced training the Navy could offer.

"Negative. Contact higher, and log it, but things like this happen every once in a while. Most of the time it's just a blown seal, but we still have to take note of it." The captain yawned,checked his chrono, and turned to his executive officer. "XO, you have the watch. I'll be in my quarters."

"I have the watch, aye sir." The captain left the bridge, while the sensor technician filed a routine report of outgassing from the colony, and sent it along to the flagship. Below, on the surface of Callisto, the survivors of the beleaguered colony battled the remaining Nazi stormtroopers for their very lives.

[Saxon Germany]

United States Army Command Post, New Grantville, Callisto

The blast hadn't just destroyed the equipment within the command room, it had knocked out the very room itself. The walls had collapsed, covering the corridors with concrete slabs and ruptured rebar. Dust motes continued to drift gently downwards, settling onto the grey blanket that coated the floors. Silence reigned, for just a few brief moments. The rubble shuddered, heaving aside as a hand punched upwards from it. It slid down in a cascade as the arm attached to the hand knocked it all aside. Slowly a monstrous form clambered out, followed by another three like pack of hellish horrors. They looked towards the other side of the room, blocked in by the fallen roof, as if contemplating pursuit of the Amis. A sudden burst of static and a savage growl emanated from their radio sets, before silence fell again. Slowly they they turned, loping off back towards the waiting transports that would withdraw the handful of survivors from the assault group.

The last SS trooper lay crushed beneath the rubble, head caved in from a large block that had dashed it on the floor, unmourned and unconsidered by his fellows in life.