Icarus (Sci-fi/Time-travel|IC|Open)

[Mediama]

Hannah Brown

"So we'll do the parachute drop first, 24 hours before the breakout attempt so that it's not total chaos, then drop our Soviets off behind their lines, then set the ship to take the rest to Dartmore," Hannah declared, "Collect your hoofer-doofer quickly and don't forget to recolour the ship!"

Hannah, who was blissfully unaware of the state of the parachutes, instead headed for the costumes, finding a serviceable looking German uniform. The jacket was a bit too big for her, but she imagined that wouldn't be too unusual, particularly at this point in the war. She took it back to her room and tried it on, deciding she looked pretty good in a uniform... a Nazi uniform. If it hadn't been for the mission it was not something she'd ever willingly have put on and she couldn't help but feel uneasily like she looked like she was from the cast of an exploitation film. Putting that thought aside, she also realised she looked far too clean for someone in the ruins of Berlin.

She took a moment to play around with the translator and get some similar meaning names for herself and the others, then left her room, adjusting the uniform skirt as she did. She headed straight for Engineering where she took herself on a tour of locations she had visited during the boarding action. Behind pipes, under machinery, coming out with all sorts of stains on her uniform, a bit of a grease smear on her cheek and a very satisfactory tear in the jacket shoulder where it had snagged on a screw. Much better.

Next she took herself to the armoury, searching around until she managed to lay her hands on a replica of a German MP40, which she was just checking the sights on when Foley made his appearance, "I saw a couple more of these and I'm sure I saw a Luger the last time I was in here. I must say, I'm glad we're playing with guns and not swords this time around. By the way, I'm not going with a fancy codename this time, I'll just be Hanna Braun, and unless you have something better you can be Josef Günther and Jean-Luc can be Johannes Buchholz. Hans, well Hans can just stay as Hans!"

And since there was nobody else there yet she added, with a slight smirk, "Don't feel the need to check I don't have a tail or anything?"

Hans Dietrich
Icarus Armory

Hans nodded. "Hans is a common enough name that no one would be suspicious. I do have one concern though." Hans was apprehensive about this one specific revelation since he first woke up from the ship, but given this particular mission had raised the question on whether or not anyone was alive around this time, he had no choice but to face the music. "I was a captain of two U-Boats from the start of the war to 1944. If we are not careful enough, I may still be in the records, listed as dead."

[Grenartia]

Phoenix

Phe had some misgivings about letting the Themis crew go back to their own ship, but she also agreed with Hannah that murdering them in cold blood was not the way to go, either, and even if one or more of them asked for asylum on the ship, she wasn't sure anyone would or could trust them. Soon, however, her pondering of this ethical dilemma was cut off by the crew being summoned to the bridge.

Several minutes later...

"I figure I'll go Soviet. Maybe pose as an American POW that escaped and wants to keep fighting, maybe stick out like less of a sore thumb. I'm painfully aware of how much I still look like a man, so that shouldn't be an issue." she said, as if anyone on the bridge would recognize that last sentence as completely normal for someone to say. "But, Phoenix isn't a very conspicuous name, so just call me Jack. I just have one question though. Do we know how this bomb is getting delivered?"

[The United Federation of Terrans]

A co-write between Europa Undivided, Dyelli Beybi, Mediama and yours truly.

As soon as Foley was more or less done preparing the paratrooper equipment, Jean stepped into the armory. He had this pretty depressed look on his face, as always, but other than that, he was his usual self.

"Watch out... I'm scared of heights," Jean said jokingly while taking one of those communication devices into his pockets. "For real, though. How many times have you been in... active warzones?"

Foley deposited the stack of parachutes onto an empty work table before pocketing a similar comm device.

“Where I was one of the sides? A few. Here where I’m technically not supposed to be? More then enough.”

Foley turned to look for uniforms before he paused and turned squarely to Jean.

“Why? Don’t trust me?”

"You know what you're doing, so of course I give my trust," Jean answered. "That is what soldiers do, don't we? Trusting that our comrades will be there for us?"

The Frenchman paused, letting out a long sigh as that sunk in. "Look... about that other time. Sorry about all that. It was bad, it was ungainly. I should have known better."

“Not your fault. Mud and blood ain’t your style.” Foley’s voice was half teasing as he ambled over to a rack of weapons. He examined the row with a discerning eye before he removed two weapons from their mounts; returning to the frenchmen with them in hand. “Besides, you learned your lesson hopefully. But you can carry this and we call it even.”

Foley shoved an MP-40 at the Frenchman. The operator’s other hand clutched a Mauser fitted with sniper optics.

Satisfied that they wouldn't have a case of bad blood, Jean took the submachine gun with a relish, looking over its features as if he were admiring it. "Well, well, on to more wholesome topics. Hannah. She likes you. I think. She has this... err, look."

“I’m thinking Fallschirmjager uniforms. So we can explain the parachutes without being shot as spies.” Foley ignored the previous topic and the feeling in his gut Hannah provoked.

"... Which makes sense because her previous love interest was the Spetznasz guy," Jean continued without missing even a beat of his own. "But yes. Fallschirmjäger uniforms, that will make sense for us to go in there with. Just got to make sure that the previous self of Alexei over there doesn't somehow blow us up with a tank."

“Here. To spot the tanker before he blows us up.” Foley shoved the Mauser at Jean now. A glare on his face now while he tried to tear the machine pistol from the Frenchman’s grip. Ignoring for now the fact that apparently Hannah had a thing for operator types.

"Hm," Jean readily gave the MP40 away, as he had always been a user of snipers and other big guns. "I was wanting to ask for the Mauser instead buuuuuuut this also works. Sweet..."

“You ever fight in a city?” Foley set aside his machine pistol on another empty table. He bent down and gave a slight heave of effort before lifting a case of prepackaged magazines onto the table with a hefty thump. He bent again and retrieved a case of neatly packaged Mauser ammunition; he slid the case along his bench closer to Jean's side.

Jean shrugged, remembering that all fights he had against other humans were in space, aboard space cruisers. "Only against giant alien lizards," came the reply. "Other times were all in void combat."

The operator grunted at that last part. Curious about space lizards and void combat. Instead, he focused on trying to find their uniforms and web gear.

“You might not like that sniper so much after a few blocks. Trust me.”

The spaceship captain nodded in agreement, knowing how much heavier guns were back at the older days. "Yes, yes... I know. Thing's quite heavy. The guns we had in the future were often way lighter, not that it really helped when the time came. Could maybe bring it in a pack or something..."

Foley’s snort was audible even over the sound of him pulling out crates.

“Let me know how that turns out.” Amusement tinged his voice and one could hear grin on his face.

The amusement quickly turned to excitement as he pried open a lid.

“Got ya!!” He grabbed a pair of trousers from the bin and held them up to the light. “Look your size?”

Jean squinted somewhat as he looked at the trousers, trying to determine whether it was indeed fitting for him. He wasn't sure how much difference there was between his post apocalyptic self and time travelling self, but the latter certainly had a better diet.

"Looks like it can fit comfortably," Jean answered, nodding in agreement. "Well, barely."

Foley lobbed the clothing at Jean, followed by a camouflaged top, and an equipment harness. The operator paused though as he pulled out a helmet and a uniform cap.

“What do you think? Heavy or light?”

"I saw a couple more of these and I'm sure I saw a Luger the last time I was in here. I must say, I'm glad we're playing with guns and not swords this time around. By the way, I'm not going with a fancy codename this time, I'll just be Hanna Braun, and unless you have something better you can be Josef Günther and Jean-Luc can be Johannes Buchholz. Hans, well Hans can just stay as Hans!"

And since there was nobody else there yet she added, with a slight smirk, "Don't feel the need to check I don't have a tail or anything?"

Foley definitely didn't jump in shock at the sudden reveal of Hannah's presence in the room. Instead, he might have jolted slightly before spinning on his heel. Hannah was hefting an MP-40 similar to Foley's and was dividing her attention between it and Foley. At first, He was confused as to Hannah's comment about being alone. Then he realized the angle the captain was at, combined with their differing heights, meant that Jean was effectively hidden by Foley. She must have entered in the lull of conversation as Foley waited for Jean's response.

Either way he felt a mild burning rise up his neck as he sidestepped to reveal Jean buttoning up his top. Foley’s lips were in a small, tight grin as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I think your good ma- Hannah." He tried not to meet her eyes and instead fixed his view just above her head.

[The United Federation of Terrans]

A co-write between Europa Undivided, Dyelli Beybi, Mediama and yours truly.

Hannah looked momentarily surprised to see Jean there, though she didn't look at all embarrassed, "Ah, Johannes, good to see you made it here," she said, switching to the codename she had given him. Jean appeared to ignore Hannah's comments for the moment. Instead carrying on with Foley as if nothing had happened.

"Somewhere in between..." Jean shrugged. At this point he just wanted to get the whole thing with fitting through the stuff over with. What he really knew was that there was definitely something fishy going on between Hannah and Foley... and the latter was unwilling to even discuss. Must be some kind of a pushover beneath that gruff, military exterior, yes?

"That should do it," Jean nodded, remembering the codenames that Hannah had given to them just a few moments before. German names were quite a mouthful to pronounce, and sounded rather angry. "Johannes Buchholz... and Josef Gunther. Yep, got it. Now where is our actual German friend right now?"

“Maybe finding another uniform.” Foley offered as he finished shrugging on his top. He donned a helmet, it’s liner unblemished, and began pulling on his web gear. He harness and began the process of loading its pouches with ammo and other equipment. A distraction that helped him not think about Hannah's earlier comment or her uniform.

“Need help with your chute?” He offered Jean while stuffing a few grenades into a satchel. Noticing Hans had stepped into the armory as he stowed the grenades.

Hans had slipped in after the briefing, still unsure what to make of the supposed end to his homeland. On one hand, he knew the writing was on the wall, it was already going bad for them in the Atlantic, it had to spread somehow.

And now he was tasked to ensure this stayed that way… Still, Donitz was one thing, the Fuhrer was another. And even if he had fought in the Great War, it was getting clearer by the day that he had no idea what he was doing up until that fateful patrol.

For now, he was just stunned at the audacious plan the American and the Russian had come up with. He was about to mention his experience with them before they left, but they didn’t give him the time to do so.

There wasn’t any time like the present. Best do it before they do something foolish.

Especially when they were starting to slip into Fallschirmjager gear.

“We might have a better solution than this, something more… subtle… We are supposed to remove some sort of special weapon, am I not mistaken?”

“Your not.” Foley drawled slowly; glancing at the German while shoving a Walther P-38 into a holster.

Hans nodded, “It might be more sensible to infiltrate the base as Kreigsmarine sailors, set on a mission to deliver a secret weapon to the Japanese. And claim that there will be another weapon coming on the way. It would be a lot more subtle than just shooting our way in.”

“This get up is so we don't get shot in our parachutes. As for shooting our way in...... we'll just have to play that part by ear. ” Foley turned fully towards the German now; scrutinizing. “Why sailors though? So far inland.”

“Although Donitz was hesitant with exchanging technology with the Japanese, the Fuhrer was known to try to exchange special technologies in good faith, and they way they would do so is through submarine. “ Dietrich looked towards the familiar cap of a U-Boat skipper, and picked it up, “I may also be familiar with certain protocols to pull it off convincingly, seeing I was one.”

“Think they would buy a bunch of sailors just waltzing into Berlin and asking for a nuke? “ Foley wasn’t confrontational, just curious.

“If we really are entering when the war is near its end, military order would be in shambles, there would be chaos. Some doctored papers may be needed but besides that, there wouldn’t be a lot of questions asked if everything is collapsing and the communists are at the door.”

“And we’d stick out like a sore thumb; a bunch of armed sailors and a clerk.” Foley paused before he gave a tilt of his head. “Let’s compromise. You play the Kriegsmarine big shot in charge of the transfer, Hannah is the clerk organizing the transfer, me and Jean are the dumb muscle guarding your journey.”

He gestured at the Frenchman; who had by now donned most of his gear and was examining his rifle.

"Oh yes, yes, that works," Jean looked back towards the two other men, though he quickly went back to admiring the weapon's form. He was having a bit of strain from carrying it around, though, as it was nowhere as light as the guns of the future. "That's a great plan, yeah. I concur."

“Jean” There was a sigh in the American’s voice. “Did you remember to grab a pistol?”

"I have one," Jean answered, tapping the holster he had on the side that was facing away from Foley. The man then pulled out the Luger for Hans and Joseph to see, cracking a smirk as he did. He really was just like that, enjoying himself as much as the situation allows while they have yet to face the battle itself.

Hans nodded, before he turned to look towards the wardrobe for uniforms, pulling out the uniform of a Lieutenant Commander, his rank, along with the appropriate Iron cross and other decorations he earned for all of his troubles, best to look the part.

Given the situation Germany would be in, he didn't believe it would matter, but if there was one thing he knew would be ever-present, it would be discipline, for better or for worse.

He completed the look with a black leather jacket, before he slipped a holster and took a p38 of his own, looking towards the Luger. "That is an impressive weapon. Suffice to say, they were already being phased out for the bulk of the Wehrmacht by the time I had passed. Though given you two are trying to pass off as Luftwaffe, that might not be much of an issue, the few times I saw them they were carrying Lugers. I also wouldn't be surprised if they were given out in desperation."

Foley watched as Hans put on his uniform. The man showed me the attention to detail of a career military man; placing his devices with the casual precision only experience could provide. As the man lecture Jean on the Luger’s validity; Foley might have turns his attention the fourth member of their group.

Hannah now looked over her machine pistol with ease; a contrast to her earlier distracted attempt. Her uniform had been stressed and dirty; her face was smudged and she didn't seem to care in the slightest. Nor did she appear nervous about doing a night combat jump as her first jump. His mind jumped to the first conclusion it made.

‘I love this woman.’

The thought almost physically struck the operator and might have staggered slightly. Panic welled in his chest and he turned it into action.

“Come here Hans. I’m sure the navy never kicked you out of a plane before.” He held out a parachute and advanced towards the now uniformed German.

Hans looked towards Foley. “I didn’t realize we were actually going to literally jump into this. Unfortunately no, I wasn’t crazy enough to fall flat on my face as required by the fallschirmjager.”

Foley ignored the remark and instead put the man into the parachute; efficiently but roughly. When he was done, the straps were as tight as they could be without effecting movement too much.

Dietrich let the man do his job, then stored his cap away, wouldn't do if it flew off of his head while they jumped in.

Foley gave a perfunctory tug and was satisfied with his work. When a thought struck him.

“Almost forgot.” Foley turned to rummage through the paratrooper uniforms again before he turned back with his prize in hand. Four sets of goggles dangled from his fingers. “Gonna need these for the jump.”

The naval officer took the goggles. “If you say so.” He turned towards Hannah before he looked back to Foley. “We can probably saw we’re evacuating high-ranking officials while we’re at it.”

“If it works.” Foley had turned away from Hans by them. Now helping Jean climb into his chute and secure his rifle.

Dietrich watched on as Foley arranged the arms. “We’re not putting these in a weapons canister to drop with us?”

"They did it in Crete and it went absolutely swimmingly," Jean quipped, remembering those little tidbit of history classes back in the day. "When your friends in the Luftwaffe paradropped into Crete, the weapons were dropped separately, and they ended up having to fight their way towards their guns. Absolutely horrible."

“Only do it for the big stuff.” Foley added onto Jean's history lesson even as cinched the Mauser to Jean’s chest. A perfunctory jerk of the Mauser saw it still secured. Foley gave a nod to Jean before he picked up another chute and made his way-

Foley came to a stop before he held the next chute out to Jean.

“Think you can help her?”

"I've always been helping her," Jean nodded as he took the chute. The man looked at the chute for at least two seconds before putting his gaze back towards Foley. "For years. Anyway..."

Jean wheeled in Hannah's direction, and held out the chute. "Now let us get the parachute on ya..."

Foley for his part averted his eyes and busied stuffing himself into his own parachute. The operator paused briefly to secured his machine pistol to his chest before tightening the last straps.

He gave a few experimental swings of his arm and felt a loose strap; out of reach of his arms.

“Little help?” He turned and presented the wayward strap and his back to the group.

Dietrich experimentally tugged on the straps, from what the few members of the Luftwaffe had told him, only pilots got to use rigs similar to this, those within the fallschirmjäger had a different rig, something more free falling. “So do I only tug on one side to guide my descent?”

"So... what do I do?" Hannah asked as Jean helped her put the parachute on. She didn't sound concerned. Not yet anyway, "I've seen in some of the old movies they seem to open automatically but there's a rail they hook onto for that? I'm assuming this is more like a sky diver parachute where I have to pull a chord?"

Foley let his unreachable strap hang for now as he turns towards his crew. He gently picked up his primary ripcord and gave it the smallest tug.

“All right listen up. We don’t have much time here. This here is the ripcord….” What followed was Foley giving the most barebones jump school he could cram into twenty minutes. How to pull the chute, how to fall and land correctly, how to steer with the limited maneuverability of the old style chutes. It was mostly verbal with limited demonstration; enough to get the idea but application would be another matter entirely. So he tried not to show the frustration on his face as he ended his impromptu class.

“Any questions?”

Foley realized this was probably the longest he had ever spoken at once to the crew. And that his drawl had been magnified for the duration of his brief course.

"Jump out plane. Pull cord. Hope you don't die," Hannah summarised with her usual facetiousness. "Thank you," she added more sincerely, "I think that's about as much training as you can give us without actually jumping out of a plane. I think we might as well get to it."

“Yes ma- Hannah.” Foley shoved a knife into his sheathe and pulled his goggles into his helmet. He gave a perfunctory tug of his sling weapon as he fell in next to Hannah.

Jean winked at the two of them as he put on his own goggles in place, adjusting the damn things as to make sure they weren't so tight that he felt like his brain was getting squeezed, but not too loose that it would fall off when they jumped out. Either way, the Frenchie walked to be beside Hans, whom he knew was more or less the expert of the German side of the line. They had the Soviet tanker in the other group, so that suffices...

"I'll have a few bites before we go to a nuclear blast site, if you don't mind," Jean quietly said, taking out what looked like to be a packed sandwhich before eating it. "Don't worry... I have more to spare."

Hans nodded. “If they’re still around you could try grabbing some wurst and beer for the road. Though with the shortages we were having even before all of this it might be difficult.”

He returned his focus on adjusting his straps and his jumpsuit, making sure everything was in place. He noticed the two becoming oddly affectionate, but paid no mind to it. They weren’t technically in the military before, and so long as they knew the limits, they should be fine.

Though honestly, who would be enforcing the regulations if they really were dropping into the end of the war, when everything was on the cusp of total loss for his homeland?

He didn’t know what to think, about actually returning home, about the outcome of his supreme commander’s orders.

He couldn’t stand the fact that for a veteran, he seemed pretty careless with the lives of others.

The sooner they rid the madman of toys he wasn’t supposed to have, the better.

Foley gave one more final, tug of his harness and found it satisfactory; he grunted in affirmation and turned to-

Jean's goggles were down and the Frenchman was doing his best attempt to shove a sandwich into his mouth. The operator bit back a sigh and instead pulled his own goggles down. The tint was a bit too dark for a night jump; but it would have to do as he looked down at the captain beside him.

"We're ready to roll Captain." It felt wrong to call her by name just before a combat jump. Too personal. Not that Hannah would care and Foley could bet money on her response. 'Don't you Captain me!!!!'



Zoey Wessel
Bridge

Zoey listened through Eleanor's mystical/scientific explanation of this mysterious device and wondered what the hell she had volunteered for. Though given the alternative was parachuting with the Captain and her merry band of enforcers into Berlin; she kept her doubts to herself.

She gave Zoe, Leona and Ted an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry, I am rather going off topic. It instructed me on what I needed to do in order to stop Blackmore from possessing it. Unfortunately that involved dying, though it also said that that state would be temporary... the first time. So, what do people wear in the 1940s?"

Zoey sighed now as she picked at a stray thread of her jeans.

"Dresses probably." She sounded sullen at the thought as she shot a glance at Ted and Leona; who didn't appear too distressed by the England trip.

[The African Emirates]

Ted Jackson

She gave Zoe, Leona and Ted an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry, I am rather going off topic. It instructed me on what I needed to do in order to stop Blackmore from possessing it. Unfortunately that involved dying, though it also said that that state would be temporary... the first time. So, what do people wear in the 1940s?"

“Well, uhhh…”

Unfortunately, Ted’s fashion sense didn’t stretch beyond grey t-shirts, turtlenecks, and shorts, much less what people were wearing two centuries back from his time.

“There’s probably some information on that in the [i]Icarus[/1]’s database, let’s take a look,” Ted reasoned as he typed in keywords on one of the large screens on the bridge.

Zoey sighed now as she picked at a stray thread of her jeans.

"Dresses probably." She sounded sullen at the thought as she shot a glance at Ted and Leona; who didn't appear too distressed by the England trip.

“From what I’m seeing here…” Ted took a moment to look over the images of 1940’s attire. “Yeah, probably dresses, and…sweaters, I guess? Although the point here is to get in, retrieve the orrery, and get out all without being seen. So less conspicuous attire would be the way to go.”

[Europa Undivided]

Leona Helstrom
The Icarus

“From what I’m seeing here…” Ted took a moment to look over the images of 1940’s attire. “Yeah, probably dresses, and…sweaters, I guess? Although the point here is to get in, retrieve the orrery, and get out all without being seen. So less conspicuous attire would be the way to go.”

Leona looked over Ted's shoulder, taking in the imagery of the clothes of the 1940s with but a glance. She quietly muttered something under her breath, and then sat down.

"Well," Leona began, sounding somewhat disappointed, "It looks like I will be wearing one of those baggy ass pansy pants. And maybe we ought to get trench coats for hiding whatever objects of importance that we may possess under them. That, and for majestically striding across hallways."

Alexei, at this time, happened to pass by the little group of would-be-travelers to England, and overheard them talking about what they should wear to avoid too much attention. He had been pondering about the possible effect meeting his past self would be, and the fact that he had been told to report to the medical bay should he start feeling queazy. There were quite a few of them going to the Soviet side of the battleline, too. Emphasis on few.

"You going to England, eh?" Alexei said from behind them, putting on a tanker's hat in preparation for the insertion into the battle of Berlin. "They tell me it rains all the time there, and that the people never see the sun."

The tanker frowned. "You should wear a flat cap on your little head," he said, referring to Ted, "It will look good on you, trust me. And get umbrellas. Because its England!"

Long had Alexei sought to forget the nightmares and horrors of war. But now, he was going right back into the middle of it, and this time, the stakes were far more than the glory of the Rodina or vengeance for fallen comrades. It was the integrity of reality itself that depended on them...

[Dyelli Beybi]

Eleanor Martin

Eleanor gave Ted and Leona a frown, "You do realise you are going to be on a moor. I would firmly advise against wearing clothing you might think is appropriate for indoor social occasions. I imagine that you would find that choice of clothing quite regretable. Please may I take a look at what you are studying? I don't think there is any need to hide the box we are retrieving. We simply dig it up and take it back to this craft. It is definitely too large to hide inside a coat pocket."

She stepped in at the computer, "This is a most fascinating machine!" she declared, "I see... ahh... this doesn't look particularly exciting at all," she glanced up at Zoe, "I believe it would be appropriate to wear a blouse and a non-pleated A-line skirt with a hemline that falls to just below the knees. How daring!" she declared gleefully, apparently finding that length borderline scandalous, "Stockings: obviously. Made from some fabric called 'nylon''? Or you could try drawing the seam lines onto your leg with a pen because stockings were not always available? That seems silly. I'm sure we can find actual stockings on this ship."

She paused for a moment before sending another comment to Leona, "I would firmly advise against any kind of floral pattern on trousers. Or trousers at all. You aren't working in a factory," she finished primly.

"May 1945 in Britain was noted as a warm month with little rainfall," the Computer abruptly jumped in, "You can expect sunny weather and temperatures of around 20 degrees celcius. The exact data is unavailable due to restrictions on publication during wartime."

---

Hannah Brown

...

"We're ready to roll Captain." It felt wrong to call her by name just before a combat jump. Too personal. Not that Hannah would care and Foley could bet money on her response. 'Don't you Captain me!!!!'

Hannah looked distracted, frowning down at herself before declaring suddenly, "I'll be right back!"

She returned a few minutes later wearing baggy trousers that looked a few sizes too large for her but which were bulging comically around the waistline from where her skirt had been bunched up inside, "I figured trying to open a parachute with a skirt flapping around my ears wasn't going to be the easiest thing to do and I'm not sure we have the kind of relationship where I want to show everyone that much leg," she said with a small laugh before looking generally skyward in the cargo bay, "Alright Ziggy, want to take us to 1945?"

"Stand by," the computer answered. There was an odd lurching sensation in everyone's stomach. As it subsided the computer added, this time broadcasting to everyone on the ship, "The date and time are now 1am, 1 May, 1945. I will notify you when we are in a position to jump."

"That gives us about 22 hours to not get killed and link up with the breakout. If we jumped in the next evening we'd need to do it when there was too much visibility from the ground and the risk of getting shot would be a lot higher," Hannah explained, "We'll push into a part of Spandau that is under control of the Hitler Youth, once we get in there we'll have maybe an hour to find the bomb. The guys in the Russian group can search from the other side."

She paused to let that sink in. It wasn't the most intricate of plans but there were too many moving parts to do anything else and if the history books were to be believed, it was utter chaos on the ground without the introduction of a nuclear weapon. After a few moments she looked up at Foley, giving him a cheeky grin, "Kiss for good luck?" she suggested.

[The United Federation of Terrans]

Zoey Wessel

She stepped in at the computer, "This is a most fascinating machine!" she declared, "I see... ahh... this doesn't look particularly exciting at all," she glanced up at Zoe, "I believe it would be appropriate to wear a blouse and a non-pleated A-line skirt with a hemline that falls to just below the knees. How daring!" she declared gleefully, apparently finding that length borderline scandalous, "Stockings: obviously. Made from some fabric called 'nylon''? Or you could try drawing the seam lines onto your leg with a pen because stockings were not always available? That seems silly. I'm sure we can find actual stockings on this ship."

Zoey tried not to contain her groan at the thought she was going to have to dig up an artifact in a skirt. Or contend with treasure hunters.

"Can I just try to pass for a boy instead." She wasn't pleading. But she was close to it. "Wear a cap and all that, ja?"

Zoey knew however that she was dragging her feet. But in the end she would follow Eleanor's lead; no matter how uncomfortable or undesirable it may be.



Joseph Foley

Foley watched Hannah leave with minor curiosity before giving an internal shake of his shoulders. She was always doing something and she didn't appear overtly concerned with her errand; So the operator didn't concern himself either. He spent her absence with a detail he had forgotten. Usually on night jumps he wore a balaclava; something to darken his face and break up his features. Given that he couldn't wear one now; he had to make do with facepaint.

He was still smearing the dark paint in uneven swaths across his face when Hannah returned with her too big pants. He might have lifted an eyebrow beneath his goggles at the sight but otherwise remained silent. Hannah of course just took the silence in stride and had the ship jump to the correct time. Foley could say that the uneventful lurch that signaled jumping through time was slightly disappointing. Throwing themselves out of the cargo bay was going to be more eventful then honest to god time traveling.

Hannah used to the lack of fanfare; continued on without missing a step.

"That gives us about 22 hours to not get killed and link up with the breakout. If we jumped in the next evening we'd need to do it when there was too much visibility from the ground and the risk of getting shot would be a lot higher," Hannah explained, "We'll push into a part of Spandau that is under control of the Hitler Youth, once we get in there we'll have maybe an hour to find the bomb. The guys in the Russian group can search from the other side."

She paused to let that sink in. It wasn't the most intricate of plans but there were too many moving parts to do anything else and if the history books were to be believed, it was utter chaos on the ground without the introduction of a nuclear weapon. After a few moments she looked up at Foley, giving him a cheeky grin, "Kiss for good luck?" she suggested.

Foley might have stiffened slightly as he was smearing the last of the paint on his neck. He titled his head down and met Hannah's eyes and found that it was almost like the one she gave him in engineering. Large, expressive and.....

Foley groaned internally and gave a visible shake of his head. His audible sigh was resigned though. The operator put his non paint covered on her shoulder and squeezed it, gently.

"When we get back, promise." He allowed his lips to twitch into a smile that showed the smallest amount of teeth before returning to its usual flat line. Then, he turn and ambled over to Jean and Hans for some needed space. Not that it wasn't enticing but they were about to jump into Berlin.

'No time for distractions'

For once, both parts of Foley were in temporary agreement.

[Dyelli Beybi]

Hannah Brown

Hannah gave Foley a curious look as he retreated. She wasn't quite sure what to make of his reaction. It was... odd. Almost like he was avoiding her. Maybe she was pushing him towards something he didn't actually want? Inwardly she resolved to stop flirting with him, give him whatever room he needed. If he was interested well... she wasn't exactly hard to find.

Her train of thought was cut off by the computer, "We are now in position over the Tiergarten."

"Alright folks!" she clapped her hands together, "This is it. See you all on the ground!" I hope.

The cargo bay door eased open on hydraulic hinges. There was a city below them, the jagged, broken shapes of buildings illuminated by countless fires. There was a dark patch directly beneath them, the massive flak tower that was acting as the German command structure lay some distance to the South-West, searchlights scanning the sky. To the North East the burned out shell of the Reichstag was the scene of vicious hand-to-hand fighting between the Soviet 756th Regiment and German forces in the basement. There was a red flag over the building, though it would be shot down by a sniper during a German counterattack.

Hannah shuffled to the edge of the ramp, glancing down into the darkness, "Well," she muttered to herself, "It's a hell of a lot warmer than space," then stepped out into the night, dropping like a stone into the darkness. A few moments later her 'chute caught the moonlight as it opened and she drifted slowly, down onto the city below.

Nobody was shooting at them. At least not yet.

What Hannah hadn't mentioned, not realising quite how much of a problem it would be, was that the Tiergarten was full of trees. Shattered trees without any leaves, but trees all the same and as she came down, the branches snagged her parachute, pulling her back hard against the trunk of the tree and leaving her dangling a few feet off the ground. It would have been an extremely hard position to explain to any German soldiers who happened upon her, but thankfully she had had the foresight to pack a knife just in case she ended up wrestling with someone. It proved quite handy now in cutting the nylon straps of the parachute and a few moments later she was dropping the last few feet to the ground, landing in an ungainly pile at the foot of the tree.

She acted quickly, wriggling out of the oversized trousers, leaving her looking like the Wehrmachthelferinnenkorps girl she was impersonating. She glanced about, taking stock of her surroundings. It was dark. Muddy. In the distance there was the sound of gunfire and the steady pounding of artillery. Flashes from some manner of huge gun sporadically lit up the flak tower. She reached for her earpiece, switching to German in case she was being eavesdropped on, "If you guys can here me, I'm going to head towards the flak tower. It's too dark and I can't make out any other landmarks."

---

Meanwhile on the ship...

"I will put the Russian Team down West of Spandau," the Computer declared, drawing the door closed before the ship lurched into motion again, "Then we will follow your coordinates, Miss von der Marwitz."

"Thank you," she answered, looking around, clearly not quite sure how she was supposed to answer a talking ship.

Zoey Wessel
...
Zoey tried not to contain her groan at the thought she was going to have to dig up an artifact in a skirt. Or contend with treasure hunters.

"Can I just try to pass for a boy instead." She wasn't pleading. But she was close to it. "Wear a cap and all that, ja?"

Zoey knew however that she was dragging her feet. But in the end she would follow Eleanor's lead; no matter how uncomfortable or undesirable it may be.

"Miss Wessel... Zoey, may I call you Zoey?" she asked, turning to her companion with a slightly bemused expression, giving her time to answer before continuing, "I'm sure you could disguise yourself as a boy, but I don't know why you would want to? We won the right to vote on equal terms! ... Which you doubtless knew already. You are a fearless warrior in the mould of Boudicca, but you are also a beautiful young woman. I fear that might shine through were you to try to disguise yourself as a man. I think we shall have a lot of fun dressing up as ladies from my future or your past... though if you truly abhor the idea, I will say no more on the matter."

"And you needn't worry about the skirts. It's very easy to hide a Colt Pocket Hammerless in the pocket," she said, quite matter-of-factly, "And nobody ever expects you to have one."

[The United Federation of Terrans]

Joseph Foley

Foley watched as Hannah stepped off the ramp; disappearing from view almost instantly. He bit back the pang of worry and focused on his next concern. He slammed his hand into Jean's shoulder and jostled him to the ramp.

"Go!!!!" The Frenchman instead scooted closer to the ramp and peered out below; his feet fixed in place. Foley gave it a few beats before realization and frustration struck him at once.

' Oh for the love of God.' The operator crossed the short space between them; Jean still fixed in place and staring down at the city below.

It wasn't a hard kick. Just one with enough energy to propel Jean slightly up and forward. Foley watched the other man wheel his arms before disappearing off the ramp; the opening notes of a scream snatched away by the wind and the soft whine of the Icarus' engines. The operator peered over the edge and found nothing but the city scape of a ruined Berlin below. He didn't see any sign of Jean or Hannah from their altitude.

Satisfied, he turned from the ramp to the last member of their team. Hans hadn't approached the ramp yet; and Foley didn't have time for the man to muster up the courage. He clomped back up the ramp and seized the man's harness in both fists.

"Just remember to pull your chute!!!!" He made sure to scream it as he more or less dragged the submariner down the ramp. The reason being that he didn't even give Hans the time he gave Jean. Foley simply heaved and sent Hans stumbling off the ramp. He watched Hans disappear into the gloom as well before he allowed a smirk to crest his face. He could die in the next few minutes; but shoving hesitant jumpers off a plane was always a favorite of his.

He waited a few seconds; giving space for the other jumpers to pull their chutes before he edged to the ramp. Balancing for a split second on the ramp's end before gravity took over and he fell belly down to the ground below.


***********

Foley made a note to say something to Hannah about mentioning trees in any future briefings involving parachutes. He came to that conclusion as he sawed through another tangled cable. The rat's nest of tangled lines jerked and dropped him half a foot.

'If she survived....' That though gave Foley no comfort. Trained paratroopers wearing top of the line NVGs and with constantly streaming intelligence still died during night jumps. So the odds of their band of non-jump qualified people all surviving was slim to none.

Foley sawed harder at that last unbidden thought; trying not to focus on the math of the situation.

-Crack!!!-

He froze; knife still lodged in the cord as the familiar sound of a twig crunching rose over the sounds of distant shells and gunfire. For a brief instant there was silence, a seemingly odd coincidence, before the rustle of foliage echoed the twig. It was the loud kind of rustling; that said there were multiple people coming and they didn't care about stealth. Foley cursed and grabbed for his MP-40 still strapped to his chest and entangled in his parachute's-

"< I heard it over here.>" Foley paused at the German he now (apparently) understood with perfect clarity. However, even Foley's new found understanding of the language wasn't needed to hear the crack of a young boy's vocal cords. Excited and nervous.

" <There aren't any Russians here Max.....>" A second voice spoke up, tired and yawning, it sounded slightly deeper then the first. "<....... And if there are we didn't need to leave our post to find them.> "

" <But Herr Ostermann said......>" The brush beneath Foley peeled back and two human outlined shapes appeared. IN the low light he could make out the familiar shapes of the rifles they carried. One had his held in both hands; as if he had been pushing the leaves back with it. The other carried it in one hand; rubbing their face with obvious fatigue. The second figure was giving a lazy glance of their darkened surroundings while the first whirled almost frantically around.

" <Herr Ostermann is sleeping right now. Just like the Russians. Just like us if you hadn't dragged me out into the mud. >" The last part was said a hissed whisper and the two figures had turned from the clearing to glance at each-

-CRACK!!!!!!-

The sound of wood splintering broke the air. Foley realized he had begun falling once again. The realization that the branch holding his chute had cracked hit Foley at the same time he hit the muddy ground.

He wasn't sure how long he was out; all Foley knew was that he came to on his back. Aching throughout his body and a pair of shaking muzzles leveled at his face.


Zoey Wessel

"Miss Wessel... Zoey, may I call you Zoey?" she asked, turning to her companion with a slightly bemused expression, giving her time to answer before continuing, "I'm sure you could disguise yourself as a boy, but I don't know why you would want to? We won the right to vote on equal terms! ... Which you doubtless knew already. You are a fearless warrior in the mould of Boudicca, but you are also a beautiful young woman. I fear that might shine through were you to try to disguise yourself as a man. I think we shall have a lot of fun dressing up as ladies from my future or your past... though if you truly abhor the idea, I will say no more on the matter."

"And you needn't worry about the skirts. It's very easy to hide a Colt Pocket Hammerless in the pocket," she said, quite matter-of-factly, "And nobody ever expects you to have one."

Zoey wasn't sure how to feel about Eleanor's speech. On one hand Zoey was sure she had been paid a compliment. On the other hand she was apparently stuck on this route. She felt resigned while letting out a sigh.

"Just try not to do too much, ja?" Zoey paused before the last comment struck her mind. "Did you have to hide a lot of pistols in your time?"

She may have arched an eyebrow in curiosity.

[Europa Undivided]

Jean-Luc Lafayette
Berlin, 1945

He wasn't sure how long he was out; all Foley knew was that he came to on his back. Aching throughout his body and a pair of shaking muzzles leveled at his face.

Jean quietly swore to himself, sliding out a knife from a strap on his left sleeve to begin cutting through the parachute strap that kept him suspended on a tree. A tree, in the middle of the Battle of Berlin... where the fall of the Third Reich will be interrupted by a nuclear weapon. Certainly not the greatest time to be stuck in one place.

Still, the haphazard paratrooping that they had done into the middle of this park had undoubtedly catched a bit of attention, which came in the form of a pair of teenage boys; members of the Hitler Youth, no doubt. Their cover story is that they are Fallschirmjager that have come to reinforce the Germa defence, hopeless as it might be. Hannah and Hans nowhere to be seen, and Jean just hate the way that he was... ugh, kicked. Foley may have had a bit of fun with that part, throwing someone off a flying timeship as they screamed out in a cry of unreadiness. Oh, well. That's just how the tough military types acted most of the time.

At the moment, though, he was free. Jean heard a pained groan, and then panicked voices stuttering in German. Judging by those sounds, it was Foley, and then those two Hitler Youth boys that had somehow completely ignored Jean's presence... as he was very, very quiet. For now at least.

The translator nanites, thankfully, allowed one to speak in foreign languages. German wasn't exactly alien to Jean, as he had quite a few friends that taught him bits and pieces of Deutsch, but the marvel of nanotechnology will cover the rest.

And so, as Foley lay under the relative mercy of the Hitler Youth members, Jean walked towards them, speaking out in perfect German. "Can you not point your weapons at fellow Germans, boys?" Jean was, at this moment, very markedly a Fallschirmjager, and if someone did't actually know hiim, they'd assume he really was one.

"I'm Johannes Buchholf, that's Josef Gunther. You didn't know we were coming, didn't you? Of course you didn't. Communications keep cutting out... Now, what are your names?"

If this cover story didn't work, then concussive measures would have to be taken. Hopefully not, since they look no older than 12 and 15.

[The African Emirates]

Ted Jackson

The tanker frowned. "You should wear a flat cap on your little head," he said, referring to Ted, "It will look good on you, trust me. And get umbrellas. Because its England!"

“A…beret?” Ted had no idea what the man was speaking of, but after another cursory search, he found what Alexei had been referring to. “Ah, its literal name is a flat cap. Hmm, it doesn't look horrible.” He decided to ignore the 'small head' part, as strange a comment as it was.

The rest of those onboard were still deciding what they would wear for the trip, and also talking about disguised firearms. The last part made Ted recoil a bit, as his last experience with guns had been less than pleasant.

And so, the group traveled to their separate rooms, mostly ready to suit up for the trip to England. As Ted pulled on a vest and a sweater, as well as some utilitarian pants, his mind drifted to what Leona would be wearing. Maybe a nice jacket, one that brought out her hazel eyes. Or…Wait, you’re supposed to be dressing up, not daydreaming about Leona, he thought to himself. Anyways, the faster you get dressed, the faster you can see her stylish outfit. He got the rest of his outfit on, and carefully placed the tweed cap on his head.

Not bad, not bad at all, he mused as he looked himself over in the mirror.

Hopefully, the others on board were now also in the guise of English civilians from the 40s. The 1940s, not the 2140s, although Ted would certainly have preferred the latter. Much more comfortable, even if it was during an alien invasion. He left his room behind, and went to search for the other crew members.

[The United Federation of Terrans]

Joseph Foley
Berlin

And so, as Foley lay under the relative mercy of the Hitler Youth members, Jean walked towards them, speaking out in perfect German. "Can you not point your weapons at fellow Germans, boys?" Jean was, at this moment, very markedly a Fallschirmjager, and if someone did't actually know hiim, they'd assume he really was one.

"I'm Johannes Buchholf, that's Josef Gunther. You didn't know we were coming, didn't you? Of course you didn't. Communications keep cutting out... Now, what are your names?"

If this cover story didn't work, then concussive measures would have to be taken. Hopefully not, since they look no older than 12 and 15.

Foley had been gathering his thoughts; trying to figure out the best way to talk himself out from under the guns when Jean showed up. The Frenchman appeared from the gloom and shadows so suddenly that Foley wondered how the boys didn't shoot him in shock.

The nervous boy, Max, swung his rifle in Jean's direction. The other boy, the tired one, had removed his rifle from Foley's view and taken a step back. The second boy held the weapon in the crook of his arm while darting his gaze gaze between Foley, Jean and "Max".

But they both appeared at loss about the recent change of events. Jean's accent was impeccable; his German precise and correct. Jean's uniform and Foley's, though muddied now and hard to see in the night, were both in the familiar pattern of the German paratroopers. The fact that Jean and Foley also didn't make any move for the weapon's strapped to their bodies also belied any hostile intentions. An awkward silent descended on the stand-off before it broke by Foley eventually himself out of the mud. Max spoke first.

"Who....Who are you?" Confusion was evident in his voice and his rifle barrel dipped slightly. Foley shrugged his way out of his parachute and cast a glance at the boys. They were jumpy, they had every right though given their situation, but they were also young and naive. They were wearing too big uniforms and carrying rifles which meant they believed to some extent in protecting their nation. Foley could use that.

He put on his best sergeant's growl; adjusting his harness while stomping towards the boys. His German came out like Jeans; as fluent as a native speaker.

"I am Staff Sergeant Gunther. That is Sergeant Buchholf. We are here on a mission of vital importance for the Reich." The rifle lowered even more as Max turned his attention to Foley; the boy's eyes wide with confusion. Foley came to a stop in front of the boy; towering over the kid. "The rest of our unit never made the drop. You will have to do."

Max's mouth gaped like a fish now and his sleepy friend straightened in the background.

"Sir-" The second began to speak before Foley cut him off.

"Attention!!! Name and rank now!!!" His growl had picked up in volume. The pair straightened from habit and Foley thanked god (for the first time) for the discipline Nazi Germany drilled in its youth.

"Private Maximillian Strauss!!!"

"Private Victor Heller!!!" The second boy had spoken up finally. His voice now awake and with a nervous edge to it. Foley gave a grunt before he looked over his shoulder to Jean. The Frenchmen had arrived at his side now; the sniper rifle now unclasped and held in his arms.

Satisfied, Foley released his weapon from his chest while he addressed their new charges.

"Privates Strauss and Heller. Congratulations you will help on a mission of utmost importance to Germany. You will....." Foley trailed off as he realized that was missing the familiar weight of his earpiece; the equipment probably having come loose during the drop or his following tumble through the branches. He finally freed his MP-40 and cast a glance over his shoulder at Jean. "Do you have the rendezvous coordinates?"

He hoped that Jean still had his ear piece; so that they didn't have to blindly wonder over Berlin with two Hitler Youth soldiers.


Zoey Wessel
Icarus

Zoey had left shortly after the others had departed for the wardrobe changes. Eleanor's answer had been a slight, knowing smirk that both answered Zoey's question and left different questions at the same time. So the scout had departed to forlornly put together her wardrobe. She returned in the skirt length Eleanor had suggested and a blouse; both in neutral drab colors.

Zoey couldn't really hide the sullen look on her face while she waited for the others to gather in their new outfits.

[Dyelli Beybi]

Eleanor von der Marwitz

Zoey wasn't sure how to feel about Eleanor's speech. On one hand Zoey was sure she had been paid a compliment. On the other hand she was apparently stuck on this route. She felt resigned while letting out a sigh.

"Just try not to do too much, ja?" Zoey paused before the last comment struck her mind. "Did you have to hide a lot of pistols in your time?"

She may have arched an eyebrow in curiosity.

"More often than I wanted to," she confirmed, "I was..." she trailed off for a moment, "Well, I suppose you would call me an occultist! Which is not to say that the orrery wasn't some kind of fairground trick, it actually did predict future events with uncanny levels of accuracy though I believe the object can do far more than that. It could be quite dangerous in the wrong hands and there have been 'things' -" she said 'things' like whatever it was she was alluding to was beyond her ability to adequately articulate, "- that sought to possess it through their intermediaries in this plane of existence. So a gun could be quite useful at times!"

Her story sounded crazy... but everyone on the ship had died and been reborn in a time machine/spaceship, so perhaps there was something to it...

Eleanor took a little longer to change than Zoey did, eventually emerging in a pink and white finely checked dress with a matching jacket and a black leather shoulder-strap handbag... with the grip of a pistol sticking out of it, "Getting this future clothing right is quite complicated. I am a little worried I will look silly. I do hope I don't!" She looked every bit like a woman from the 40s.

"During the Great War I used to go by 'Eleanor Martin'," she continued for the people in her away team, "People could be quite rude if you had a German name. So given that we are at war with Germany again, I will go back to 'Martin'... for now."

---

Hannah Brown: The Tiergarten

Hannah had heard some of what was going on on the other side of the Tiergarten through Jean's comms system though she had literally no idea where she was in relation to them.

A machinegun buzzed into life somewhere in the city and she flinched. It wasn't nearby, stumbling in a crater. It must have been relatively close, though it was hard to tell in the dark. Something fired from the flak tower, the muzzle flash momentarily outlining the huge fortification, "Tell your guides to take you to the Flak tower," she said, "It's the command centre for the defence and where the breakout will be launched from."

Fallschirmjager dropping into Berlin. She shook her head as she continued picking her way towards the tower. It didn't sound that plausible to her, but the soldiers they had picked up seemed to have bought the story. The other Icarus crew must have told it well and hope, she supposed, was a powerful thing. Hope, in this case, for some kind of escape from the Red Army.

[Flarbinia]

Owari, Japan. 1592
Tokudaiji Hikitoshi was barely able to stand as blood flowed from his wounds, all but three of his attackers laying lifeless on the ground. "Look at you. In your youth, you fought the Imagawa, the Saito, and the Takeda. Now. you are an old man, easily brought down by a few mere ronin. Your ancestors would be ashamed of such weakness." Mizoguchi Jiro, the son of Tokudaiji Hikitoshi's distant cousin Takanari, said to Hikitoshi as he slashed the old Samurai's jugular with his Naginata, pulling it out before he and his men walked away.
The Cargo Hold
Tokudaiji Hikitoshi exited a metal box, accidentally hitting his head on the way out. "Am I dead? Is this Yomi? I did not expect the underworld to be made of metal." Hikitoshi said in a horrified tone as he looked around the dimly lit room, seeing more metal boxes with open doors as he was surprised by how young his voice sounded. "Or that the denizens of the realm of the dead would be forced to wear such drab garments. You'd think that the dead would wear the clothes they wore in their last moments of life." Hikitoshi said as he looked at his clothes, his expression changing from one of terror to one of disappointment. He exited the room, noticing that it was better lit than the room he was in. "Wherever I am, it is not Yomi. I will need to find the armory if I am to return to Owari." Hikitoshi thought to himself as he headed further down the hallway, noticing how empty it was. He then turned and headed down another hallway until he bumped into someone, nearly losing his balance. He looked at the figure that has bumped into him, noticing that the figure looked European. "You dare attempt to impede the path of a Samurai of the mighty Oda Clan? Consider yourself fortunate that I do not have my Katana or I would cut you down where you stand for your impudence, European dog." Tokudaiji Hikitoshi said, his voice filled with anger.

[Europa Undivided]

Jean-Luc Lafayette
Berlin, 1945

He finally freed his MP-40 and cast a glance over his shoulder at Jean. "Do you have the rendezvous coordinates?"

He hoped that Jean still had his ear piece; so that they didn't have to blindly wonder over Berlin with two Hitler Youth soldiers

Jean pulled out a map of Berlin, with the meeting point for their whole merry group was marked on the map, with the coordinates themselves written just beside the mark. It looked somewhat worn, though it wa fully intact with no tears at all. Just enough wear on the map was present so that it could easily be presented as the possession of veteran soldiers fighting the war for years. That at this time seemed to fit the bill for the time travellers masquerading as paratroopers, and these two Hitler Youth members were too scared to ask any questions... plus all that indoctrination to follow whatever a uniformed German speaking adult told them.

"Tell your guides to take you to the Flak tower," she said, "It's the command centre for the defence and where the breakout will be launched from."

Jean paused, if only for a moment, and looked back at the two shivering Hitlerjugend. "Alright, Privates Strauss and Heller. You shall bring us to the Flak Tower. Understood?"

---

Alexei Chernenko
Berlin, 1945
The Red Army

While Jean, Hannah, and Foley had gone to the German side of the battlefield, Alexei and Rebecca came unto the side of the invading Soviets. These were hardened veterans, experienced in the art of war, while their opponents often consisted of the young, the weak, and the old. This was a seriously one sided battle, but it was going to go sideways for all involved parties, what with the nuclear weapon being present...

"I was told you were a track racer, or something, yes?" Alexei said to Rebecca as they peered into the ensuing firefight from within a shelled building. "Well, that makes us two drivers, then. Tell me, you think you can move around a tank?"

The former tanker at this time, however, felt a sense of unease. Was this the beginning of the symptoms that the captain had spoken about? He was quite sure that his unit within the 8th Guards Combined Arms Army was at this time further to the northern edge of Berlin, but at it felt like so long ago since he was last here.

Still, this is still the duty given to him, the price of a second chance. Alexei isn't actually sure why, or how, but he wanted to get this done. Not because everyone else was doing it too, but because it was an obligation thrown to him by the strings of fate.

And now they go.

"Alexei in the side of the fasc- the Germans, we have also dropped into the Soviet line. We will start searching at our end..."

---

[The United Federation of Terrans]

Joseph Foley
Berlin

"Alright, Privates Strauss and Heller. You shall bring us to the Flak Tower. Understood?"

"The Flak Tower??......." Private Heller sounded confused as he glanced to his right; the tip of the massive structure visible through a break in the trees. Occasional muzzle flashes illuminating the tower's surface in the night. Easily visible, and according to the rumors; the gathering place for the remaining professional soldiers Germany had left. In other words a more dangerous area then the relatively quiet front the woods provided. "Its right there sirs....... I'm sure you could find your way there without-"

"We cannot afford to waste any more time. We move now!!!!!" Foley moved away from his position besides Jean; checking the action of his MP-40 before motioning at the privates. "Heller. Come."

Heller's expression was panicked as he he glanced around the muddy clearing one more time; as if debating fleeing. His shoulders tensed for a second before they collapsed in defeat; his feet trudging through the mud towards Foley. Strauss for his part slid in next to Jean and mimicked the way the Frenchman was holding his Mauser. His expression was nervous as well; but an eager grin took away the panic that was plainly visible on Heller. Heller didn't want to go into the brewing cauldron around the Flak Tower; but he could admit it was exciting being part of a secret mission.

As they ad-hoc group trudged through the mud and brushes Heller realized he was glad for another reason. The pair of paratroopers seemed a higher caliber then the current stock of German soldiers; their weapons maintained, held in practiced grips and their pouches looked stuffed with ammo. Their steps filled with purpose and no since of the defeatism that was visible on every defender of Berlin. A much more impressive sight then their nineteen year old squad leader. So Strauss was content with following them as long as he could get away with.

They had only been moving for ten minutes before coming to a ragged stop as Foley held up a hand. The big staff sergeant had shouldered his weapon in the blink of an eye and Heller had followed with a fumbling movement a few seconds later. Strauss didn't follow suit, wondering why when the rustling of bushes resounded over the distant sounds of fighting. The sounds were coming closer and Strauss finally fumbled for his rifle too; shouldering the weapon just as a dark figure with an odd cap burst from the bushes. They moved awkwardly, as if not used to moving in bushes or mud, their motions made even more awkward by the dim glow. Strauss' sights centered on the the figure-

"Hold Fire!!!" Foley's voice was in his well-practiced whispered shout. A hissing command barely audible. but one he reinforced by letting his weapon drop into his sling while pushing down Heller's rifle. Strauss followed the lead hesitantly as the figure stepped closer and the man's features became more evident.

A submariner stood before them. His uniform impeccable for the situation and the odd shaped hat was in-fact a U-Boat skipper's cap. Strauss could feel confusion twist his features as the staff sergeant approached the man with obvious familiarity.

"Dietrich, glad to see you made it. Hope the ride wasn't too bad?" Foley closed the distance and patted Han's shoulder. Not for any personal reason but rather to reinforce the point the man was with them; for the benefit of their still confused guides.

[Dyelli Beybi]

Eleanor von der Marwitz

Owari, Japan. 1592
Tokudaiji Hikitoshi was barely able to stand as blood flowed from his wounds, all but three of his attackers laying lifeless on the ground. "Look at you. In your youth, you fought the Imagawa, the Saito, and the Takeda. Now. you are an old man, easily brought down by a few mere ronin. Your ancestors would be ashamed of such weakness." Mizoguchi Jiro, the son of Tokudaiji Hikitoshi's distant cousin Takanari, said to Hikitoshi as he slashed the old Samurai's jugular with his Naginata, pulling it out before he and his men walked away.
The Cargo Hold
Tokudaiji Hikitoshi exited a metal box, accidentally hitting his head on the way out. "Am I dead? Is this Yomi? I did not expect the underworld to be made of metal." Hikitoshi said in a horrified tone as he looked around the dimly lit room, seeing more metal boxes with open doors as he was surprised by how young his voice sounded. "Or that the denizens of the realm of the dead would be forced to wear such drab garments. You'd think that the dead would wear the clothes they wore in their last moments of life." Hikitoshi said as he looked at his clothes, his expression changing from one of terror to one of disappointment. He exited the room, noticing that it was better lit than the room he was in. "Wherever I am, it is not Yomi. I will need to find the armory if I am to return to Owari." Hikitoshi thought to himself as he headed further down the hallway, noticing how empty it was. He then turned and headed down another hallway until he bumped into someone, nearly losing his balance. He looked at the figure that has bumped into him, noticing that the figure looked European. "You dare attempt to impede the path of a Samurai of the mighty Oda Clan? Consider yourself fortunate that I do not have my Katana or I would cut you down where you stand for your impudence, European dog." Tokudaiji Hikitoshi said, his voice filled with anger.

Eleanor, squared off against the Japanese man, her head tilted ever so slightly so that she could look down her nose at him. She was a tall woman, extremely so for someone from the early 20th century, "There is no need to be so ill mannered!" she declared, "It was you that just about walked into me!"

There was a very good chance she was hiding a pistol somewhere on her person, but she didn't reach for it, just planted her hands and held her ground. Eleanor seemed like the kind of person that would try to stare down a charging bull rhinoceros, "You haven't even introduced yourself... oh... is this one of those moments where we need to explain what's going on?" she gave a sigh, "Oh... and that extraterrestrial woman who normally does the briefing isn't here. Can someone else help? Please?"

---

Hannah Brown / Hanna Braun

Hannah had picked enough up on the comms to have decided that acting like she was expecting the crew members was a bad idea. Instead she waited, listening to them chatter with the two boys and the distant roll of artillery. She pondered the fate of the two boys. Would they survive the next few nights? Her heart went out to them, despite the fact they were fighting for the Nazis. Were they so brainwashed they were fighting for the cause as true believers? Were they just trying to survive? Either way they sounded so young you could hardly blame them for succumbing to the all-pervasive Nazi propaganda machine.

When she could hear the voices through both her headset and ears she stepped into the pathway, "Halt!" she called, doing a convincing job of sounding like a frightened young girl who was desperately out of her depth... possibly not so inaccurate, a small voice pointed out in her head.

She paused for two heartbeats before declaring, "Johannes? Johannes Buchholz! It's me, Hanna!" She bounded forward, flinging her arms around the disguised Frenchman like he was a long-lost friend. For a split second she had almost gone for Foley, but wasn't sure if he'd actually want her to...

It was a bit of an awkward hug. The MP-40 pressed against her chest wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world and she was slightly worried it would go off, which would really suck... "Johannes, what are you doing here in this mess?" she asked, taking a half-step backwards, "I thought you were far away from the city!"

[Europa Undivided]

Jean-Luc Lafayette
Berlin

It was a bit of an awkward hug. The MP-40 pressed against her chest wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world and she was slightly worried it would go off, which would really suck... "Johannes, what are you doing here in this mess?" she asked, taking a half-step backwards, "I thought you were far away from the city!"

Surely enough, Jean returned the hug, as always, but the guns that there were strapped on front of them made it a tad bit difficult than usual. It was a welcome thing, nonetheless, as it confirmed to him as well as Foley that Hannah had been able to safely land, just like them. Right now, though, they had a story to sell. The buyers would be these two teenage German kids, whose fate within the incoming days wasn't in absolute certainty, at least as far as the time travellers were concerned. At that one dull moment, Jean dared to wonder whether it would be alright if they were to take these frightened boys away from the horrors of war, if their eventual fate was torture, and then death. After all, if they were to die, then their absence won't have any effect in the timeline...?

"The Fatherland has to be protected from the Communists," Jean, or as they knew him at that moment, Johannes answered. "Though it seems that this patch of land is all that is left. Well, anyway, we have to keep moving, yah?"

Hopefully, Foley didn't feel jealous back there. That would be inconvenient.

[Mediama]

"Hold Fire!!!" Foley's voice was in his well-practiced whispered shout. A hissing command barely audible. but one he reinforced by letting his weapon drop into his sling while pushing down Heller's rifle. Strauss followed the lead hesitantly as the figure stepped closer and the man's features became more evident.

A submariner stood before them. His uniform impeccable for the situation and the odd shaped hat was in-fact a U-Boat skipper's cap. Strauss could feel confusion twist his features as the staff sergeant approached the man with obvious familiarity.

"Dietrich, glad to see you made it. Hope the ride wasn't too bad?" Foley closed the distance and patted Han's shoulder. Not for any personal reason but rather to reinforce the point the man was with them; for the benefit of their still confused guides.

Hans Dietrich
Berlin

The initial landing was a difficult endeavor to say the least. Because of his apparent lack of training using a parachute, Hans had been blown off course away from the group. Fortunately, they were parachuting into familiar territory. Anyone high enough and as decorated as Dietrich would've had to go to the Naval Headquarters in Berlin at least once in their career. Though it took time for him to gain his bearings, he eventually came upon the American. Having made his way to the American's group, Hans had gathered all of his old demeanor back, namely remaining stoic despite everything happening around them.

He quietly nodded back. "Given the urgent and dire circumstances, they are the best they could be. The Luftwaffe are having quite the hard time keeping the communists at bay." He looked over to the other men, Hitler Youth by the looks of their insignia, if not for their height and stature (or in this case, lack thereof) in what looked to be ill-fitted Wehrmact uniforms. He walked up to them, closely inspecting them from head to toe, a pang of cynicism shot through him at how desperate his homeland had to be to resort to conscripting children. During his time in service, they had only just started pulling boys fresh from the Hitler Youth into the boats, most of them were fanatics. As such he usually avoided them. And now here they are, having to face the onslaught of the communists.

"Boys." He muttered. "Mere boys, who should be at home caring for their families." He turned to look back at the American. "Were these the only men you were able to scrape up on such short notice? Surely such a mission is too dangerous for them to be a part of."

[The United Federation of Terrans]

Joseph Foley
Berlin

"Given the urgent and dire circumstances, they are the best they could be. The Luftwaffe are having quite the hard time keeping the communists at bay." He looked over to the other men, Hitler Youth by the looks of their insignia, if not for their height and stature (or in this case, lack thereof) in what looked to be ill-fitted Wehrmact uniforms. He walked up to them, closely inspecting them from head to toe, a pang of cynicism shot through him at how desperate his homeland had to be to resort to conscripting children.

Foley remained silent as Hans inspected their guides. The boys, for their part, squirmed uncomfortably under the examination. The strange turn their night had taken growing by the second as a U-Boat captain now looked them over with a silent, all knowing gaze. Still, the officer rank on Hans' uniform demanded their respect and attention. So they remained quiet as Hans finished his rudimentary inspection.

"Boys." He muttered. "Mere boys, who should be at home caring for their families." He turned to look back at the American. "Were these the only men you were able to scrape up on such short notice? Surely such a mission is too dangerous for them to be a part of."

Foley remained quiet for a split second as he tried to figure out the best narrative. Inspiration struck him; so he adopted an infuriated expression while stepping towards Hans. The operator new this a an act for the benefit of the guides but he had to make it believable. Lest they think the lot of them were infiltrators, which was true in a sense. So he tried to sound as if he was speaking through his teeth while remaining loud enough for Strauss and Heller to hear.

"We started off with a dozen Fallschirmjager's. The Communists hit us right while we were dropping. We lost our commander and our heavy weapons in the plane. Its just me and Buchholz now. So forgive me sir for grabbing two extra rifles and bodies to ensure we complete our mission!!!!"

Foley hoped he hadn't laid it on too thick. This was all theatre after all to solidify the group's need of the boys. They didn't have a need for weapons, Foley suspected the pair of young soldiers were more likely to shoot a friend then the enemy; but the boys would have a decently current knowledge of the ruins of Berlin. Know what streets were two bombed out or where the fighting was the heaviest.

The operator gave a glance at them and didn't see any signs of hostility. Just slight degrees of panic, and Foley realized that he had admitted to an aircraft of crack paratroopers being shot down. It might have been fake, but the boys believed the situation was slightly more hopeless. While Foley would admit it would be nice for the boys to throw down their weapons and surrender instead of dying in a pointless fight; he was practical enough to not want them at that point now. Hopeless men wouldn't be the guides they needed.

So he let out an audible sigh and adopted a resigned expression. He faced Hans fully now and scrubbed his camo smeared face with a gloved hand.

"Sorry sir..... high nerves. I know they are just boys but we need the help. Talk to them if you want and send them on the way if you're not comfortable with it. Its your mission anyways sir."

Foley left at that. Ambling of a small distance from the group to give a semblance of privacy. He would let Jean and Hans play the Good Cops here. Soothing the boys while Foley would play the tough NCO; cracking the whip and keeping the mission on track. It was a role he was familiar with at least.

Didn't mean he had to like it.

************

The drama of Hans' meeting had passed and the group had continued on. Jean leading this time while Foley brought up the rear. Stepping in the smaller footprints of those ahead of him to reduced the chance of stepping on something explosive buried in the mud and dirt beneath. His attention devoted between watching his steps and the dim forest behind-

"Halt!"

The words came in German, a naggingly familiar female voice that Foley tried to place before realization struck him. The realization came at the same time a small figure bounced out of the gloom.

"Johannes? Johannes Buchholz! It's me, Hanna!" She bounded forward, flinging her arms around the disguised Frenchman like he was a long-lost friend.

Foley watched as Jean and Hannah embraced like two friends separated by war; and suddenly reunited by sheer chance. It was acting like Foley's outrage with Hans earlier; didn't make that slight bit of discomfort and jealousy in his chest go down any better. He grimaced at the latter emotion and trudged forward to the "reunion" where the pair were chatting away and selling their story. He didn't have a claim on her; held gazes and spur of the moments confessions didn't mean-

'Your getting soft....'

Foley grimaced again as he realized he was acting like a teenager in the middle of the Battle of Berlin; as they tried to fool a pair of armed, and trigger happy child soldiers. So he tamped down on his emotions again and arrived just as Jean suggested they keep moving; with Hannah in tow of course.

He wasn't sure how Foley fit into the narrative Hannah had constructed right then. If he should know her, if they were friends or minor acquaintances or perhaps even strangers. So he settled for silent nod in her direction while he let her add him into whatever story she had constructed.

[Westeastern Dicantia]

Rebecca Watson

The pounding in her chest was back. Her uniform trapped it inside of her, the constant noise of fighting in the background fueled it, and the unfamiliar feeling of the revolver she was carrying offered little comfort. She kept very close to Alexei, doing her best not to let on that she was so uncomfortable. She managed it better this time, so she thought: the loose fitting clothes hid the residual shakiness she couldn't control and he was clearly more focused on finding them a way into the battle.

"I was told you were a track racer, or something, yes?" Alexei said to Rebecca as they peered into the ensuing firefight from within a shelled building.

"I was, I guess I still feel like I am," she said, feeling weird about speaking about herself in the past tense."

"Well, that makes us two drivers, then. Tell me, you think you can move around a tank?"

"I've never touched a tank before, but I can try," she responded with feigned confidence. She pushed and pulled a pair of imaginary levers in front of her, "It can't be that hard, can it?" She knew it would be a lot harder than she thought, but it wasn't as if this had happened before.

Her first proper indycar test was a terrifying experience behind the wheel of a machine that not only had twice the horsepower as her much less capable lights car, but more of almost everything quantifiable. The first hour of that day was probably the least sure of herself she had ever felt in her life. The new car, even with the boost turned down and in very safe trim, shouted and bucked like it knew she was out of her depth and, even as she found her pace, the fear lingered into the early weeks of her full time ride. Surely nothing could compare to that.

Now, crouched fully behind the wall, she asked, "So, how are we doing this? Did the rest of our crew get killed and you're the commander?"

[Dyelli Beybi]

Flakturm Tiergarten, Berlin

Hannah fell in with the others as they trudged through the wreckage of the park towards one of the last bastions still standing in the city. There were soldiers around it, though no shortage of civilians as well as the detritus they had left in their wake. Discarded cases of clothes, and a broken pram lay in the mud next to the squat hull of one of the few surviving assault guns. It's crew barely reacted to the newcomers, sitting slumped in it's shadow, unfocused thousand-yard stares etched on grimy features. They knew this was the end.

"Johannes, I don't understand... why would you come back here? It is folly!" she was playing the part, looking terrified... it didn't take much acting. They hadn't been on the ground long but she already felt the atmosphere of despair sinking into her bones. And there was a nuclear bomb somewhere and only the vague knowledge of where it had gone off.

She glanced across at the men in the group as they reached the foot of the tower. She'd need to take a backseat role again though she'd felt their plan earlier had sounded pretty solid, "So this is where you are going? Have you come to talk to Colonel Haller?"

IT was a quick reminder of the name of the man in charge of the building. He wasn't the most senior officer in Berlin but they knew where he was and this was where the breakout attempt had come from that ended in a nuclear detonation...

[Europa Undivided]

Alexei Chernenko
The Soviet Line

Now, crouched fully behind the wall, she asked, "So, how are we doing this? Did the rest of our crew get killed and you're the commander?"

Alexei nodded, looking down to check the amount of ammunition he had brought with him for the PPSH submachine gun. It seemed enough for an incursion, though they could always pick up more from the casualties of the battle later on if they were in need. There wasn't a short supply of those.

"That would be cover story, then," Alexei answered, gazing towards the burnt out hulk of a destroyed IS-2 tank, which had probably been penetrated by an anti-tank gun in an earlier wave. "Alright, remember the names we had discussed? You'll be Alyona Aranova Stasha, and I... I guess I'm still Alexei, though you can call me Sasha as it's the less formal nickname. And uh... now that I think of it, I'll drive. Don't think we'll need the main gun. Probably."

With that, he motioned at her to follow him, while he followed the map that marked the general area of where the nuke was placed. Hopefully either they or the other side finds where the bomb is so that they can defuse it... or remove it from the area and then safely detonate it in space. How do they cart a nuke away from an active warzone, though...?

---

Jean-Luc Lafayette
The Tiergarten, Berlin

Jean spared a glance at Foley as he and Hannah chatted on about their cover story. It really looked like that he felt something, perhaps a tinge of jealousy, but he was a man of action. Jean was confident that the operator would stay calm, while the U-Boat captain would be the best at keeping those Hitler Youths in line. He was the one that had actual experience of dealing with them, after all.

She glanced across at the men in the group as they reached the foot of the tower. She'd need to take a backseat role again though she'd felt their plan earlier had sounded pretty solid, "So this is where you are going? Have you come to talk to Colonel Haller?"

"Rumor has it that this area has vital intel that has to be recovered," Jean said in a half truth, as they did need to know where the nuke was... and where the other time travellers were. "We need to be in there soon, and find it."

Going by their previous misadventures in ancient Greece, it would be apparent that Blackmore's lackeys would be actively guarding their anachronistic secret. Hopefully they don't get recognized here, at least not until they see the bomb itself.

[Flarbinia]

"Tokudaiji Hikitoshi. Why I am here is a question that can be answered later. My only concern right now is the need to get out of these drab garments." Tokudaiji said to the strange woman as he turned his attention to the door and headed inside, unafraid of her superior height. He searched the room for clothes that would fit him, riffling through the uniforms until he found a suitable one, taking off the drab grey outfit he was wearing before. "A helmet stronger than what an Ashigaru wear? I do not know of any Clan that uses a star as its Mon Crest, but the previous wearer must have been a Samurai. Only a fool would waist such cloth on a mere Peasant." Tokudaiji Hikitoshi thought as he put on the uniform, the grey cloth feeling rough compared to the smooth silk of the Kimonos he was used to wearing. After a few minutes, he was fully dressed, putting on the helmet before he left the room, leaving the drab outfit where it lay. "Now that I am grabbed in clothes fitting of a Samurai, can one of your companions show me to the armory? I require a weapon." Tokudaiji asked the strange woman as he walked back into the hallway, dressed like an officer of the Japanese Imperial Army.