|Rise of the Greens
Author: Makori PM
Russia has been instituted as Area 25, and the former Russian military takes shelter in the spacious, snowy wilds to lead an armed rebellion. Follow the story of one Panzer-Hummel pilot as he helps the resistance win back the freedom of Russia.Rated: Fiction T - English - Sci-Fi/Adventure - Chapters: 4 - Words: 11,703 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 4 - Follows: 4 - Updated: 08-20-09 - Published: 08-16-09 - id: 5306474
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
(A little snippet to my latest reviewer gouald: Yes, I was indeed trying to replicate, to a degree, the events of WWII, when Germany blitzed into Russia. Once the defensive line in Poland fell, there was very little to slow the German tanks until they reached the meatgrinder of Stalingrad. I attempted to replicate a similar effect, except that, with advanced machines like Knightmares in play, this sort of battle would cause even larger casualties.)
Code Geass: Rise of the Greens
Chapter 4: Uninvited Invaders
Can a nation be free if it oppresses other nations? It cannot.
-Vladimir Lenin, before his assassination in 1904
The Chinese Federation
The Vermilion Forbidden City
En Route to the Palace
Lelouch Lamperouge would have preferred to take this trip in a casual vehicle. Perhaps a nice, ordinary taxi, or in the sidecar of Rival's bike. Even a subway would do. Unfortunately, because of his status, demeanor and need for secrecy, Zero had expensive tastes, and instead asked to organize a ride to Empress Tianzi's wedding reception in a Chinese gunship, in order to throw off the enemy. And so, a little bit of hard currency, a few flirts from some very pretty eyes from the ranks of the Black Knights, and Zero had his proffered method of travel.
As the aircraft buzzed over the Vermilion Forbidden City, the leader of the Black Knight peered out at the busy, lit streets below. China was an enormous place, home to almost a solid third of the world's population. Not even Britannian or Russia could attest to such a feat, and the Commonwealth were spread out over land at least twice as large, and the Empire encompassed two whole continents.
Such a big place.
Such a busy place.
Such an obvious place for the Order to hide.
There were two main reasons why Lelouch had picked the Chinese Federation, and not the Euro Universe, as his target for alliance. One of them, obviously, was that C.C. had told him that the Order were in the Chinese Federation. They would not, could not, operate without trace. It was virtually impossible, and using this country's vast resources would help him track them down.
Number two was their military strength and government status. While a self-proclaimed federation of nations, the Chinese ruled it more in the style of the Britannians, and with the High Eunuchs calling the shots with the young Empress as a figurehead, they could do whatever they wanted with that power.
It needed to stop. The tyranny would need to be weeded out and made apparent to the public.
The EU, however, was far too reasonable with their people. With the exception of Russia, the citizens of the Euro Universe had some of the best human rights in the world. The commoners had say with their higher ups, elected their leaders, voted on different issues and mostly volunteered for the military. They even cared about others, as well, instead of sticking their heads up their asses and thinking only for themselves. Humanitarian aid was sent down to Africa all the time to help with the various sicknesses, starvation, natural disasters, poverty and civil war damage that happened all the time. The EU had just managed to crack into settling the different cultural disputes in Central Africa when Britannia had invaded.
Now, the war had cut the EU into pieces. The French had become another piece of the Empire in everything save name. Russia was on the verge of being lost under Britannian boots. Germany, Sweden, Italy, the British Isles, and many of the smaller eastern European countries, with much assistance from its larger brothers and mercenaries, were the only countries able to resist encroachment of any kind.
While the EU, having owned the most territory before being stomped into the ground, also had the largest military in the world, it would have been too hard to try and slip the Black Knights into leadership. If this had been some sort of cheesy television program, the Euro Universe would have been the stereotypical 'good guys' of the story.
No longer. Schneizel's superior tactics and Britannia's advanced technology had proven to be the winning factor against the EU's far larger numbers. Troop estimates at the beginning of the invasion had been seven million Britannians going up against well over forty million Europeans. Many had questioned the wisdom of such a move, but the tactical master prince had proven himself up to the task, and had whittled the EU down to less than half of their troop strength either by tactical conquest or by 'diplomatic agreements' and forced the others to take up the defensive.
Zero had already ruled out the EU as a lost cause. But Lelouch hoped that it had the strength to survive and regain its former territory. If there was one alliance that deserved to have a piece of the world, it was definitely the Europeans.
He turned to Kallen, saying "Kallen. I seem to remember hearing about the Britannians making progress in the Commonwealth of Russia."
The red-haired Guren pilot nodded, stretching her arms in the cramped interior of the gunship. "Yeah. They were bragging about it up and down every single news program that they could. Broke through the Russians' main defensive line. I think they were stalled outside of Moscow, though."
"Then we can already consider Russia fallen. A shame, really. They had such large military potential. If only they actually cared about their soldiers."
That was only Zero's opinion, however. Truthfully, Lelouch was thinking something quite different.
'We can only hope those proud legions can find a way to rally on their own. If they can free themselves, they will most definitely turn the tide of the war.'
Undetected by the Britannians
"I count six, maybe seven hardpoints within the city itself. The roads are watched by mechanized infantry. Tanks and Knightmares in the center and more infantry in the streets. They've really locked this place down."
"Roger that. Good work, Three. Come on back."
The unit's new comms operator rubbed his eyes as he set down the long range radio-pack's receiver, biting his lip as he awaited Warrant Officer Ryberskay and Master Sergeant Kasinov's reactions to this turn of events.
Irkutsk and Bratsk had been, as predicted, Commonwealth holdouts, comprised of army survivors and the civilians who needed to be transported to safe haven. Fuel, supply and transport issues had been solved as soon as the convoy had reached Bratsk, a much larger town than the other two that they had passed thus far, and the camp behind them consisted of well over two-thousand civilians, and their ranks had been increased by over a hundred more soldiers.
Of course, this had come with definite drawbacks. Sickness plagued the camp, supplies were still extremely low, and most of the soldiers that had been picked up were former armor crew or Knightmare pilots who had no machines. The Britannians made targeting the enormous tanks and Panzer-Hummels a priority, and their snipers and aircraft had spared no machine on their raids. As of now, and still, the only soldier with a machine was Anatoly Vyaschelev.
Ryberskay rubbed his eyes, thinking it over in his mind as his infantry commander and second in command Kasinov stated "No way we can simply overwhelm them. They'll just overwhelm us back."
"Da, a truth," remarked Ryberskay as he brought his hand down, frowning before asking "What did the scouts report about the armor depot?"
The radio operator went over his written notes, searching until he found what he was looking for, passing it up to the warrant officer. "Depot's completely surrounded, sir. Four Sutherlands and five tanks."
Ryberskay's eyebrows rose into his padded helmet as his own eyes perused the paper, and he stated "But the prize is inside. Twenty Panzer-Hummels and forty tanks of various types. T-10s, SU-152s, T-3s, and plenty of trucks."
The warrant officer laughed, slapping the paper as he declared "This battle is already half over! The Britannians obviously haven't reached their command to airlift these machines out. We just need to reach the depot and we can crush the rats!"
But Kasinov had one last objection: "How?"
Anatoly had been out on patrol on the opposite side of of the convoy's campsite from the city, as he was deemed rather too valuable to simply keep in camp if the enemy were to attack, when he was called in by Ryberskay. As he dismounted outside of the radio tent, which had become the unofficial command center, he had no clue what was coming.
Until it hit him in the face.
"You want to WHAT?!"
Cue figurative whack in the face.
Ryberskay held up a map of the city, where various points were circled and labeled in red. "This point in the center is the motherload: more armored vehicles here than we'll find anywhere else this far south in the rodina. The only problem is that, with our current numbers, there's no way we can take on the armor."
Anatoly gritted his teeth as he snarled "I got that, sir. What I want to know is WHY do you insist on sending me on a suicide mission?"
Ryberskay folded the map, leaning back and saying "It's not suicide. We count six Sutherlands and nineteen tanks. A pilot like you can handle them, right? I saw you annihilate that column practically single-handed."
"I had NO CLUE what the hell I was doing! Chyort, sir, if you want me to die so badly, why don't you just execute me?"
Kasinov stepped forward, a TT-11 pistol gripped in his fingers as he leveled it at Anatoly's head, saying "That can be arranged, you insubordinate little mudak!"
Ryberskay stepped in here, however, forcing the master sergeant to lower his gun as he said "It's not suicide. You don't even have to destroy them all. Just stay alive and keep fighting them while some of our riflemen sneak the pilots around to the depot. Once we have the machines, the Britannians won't stand a chance."
"So...I'm a distraction?"
"Just until we can get the Knightmares and tanks running sergeant, da."
Anatoly weighed the possibilities in his mind. As long as he didn't have to destroy every single enemy on the field, as long as he could hang back and shell them, he would be fine. Sutherland assault rifles at that range wouldn't be able to hit him very well, and he could knock them off with the cannons. There were two things to watch out for, though, those being the tanks and the civilians. If he could-
Anatoly's head snapped up as he realized the rank tacked onto the end of the statement. Kasinov seemed just as shocked as the pilot, and both of the them declared "SERGEANT?!"
Ryberskay waved them down, declaring "It is my decision! As a Warrant Officer, I outrank everyone else here! We need someone to organize the armored units out there once they mount up. And no pilot we have is above the rank of private, so I chose the one who has proven himself!"
"I don't even know what the hell I'm doing out there!" Anatoly declared, a hand gesturing back at the Panzer-Hummel, and Kasinov agreed "Shouldn't we wait until we have someone who is able to perform their job without guessing?"
"War IS a guessing game, Kasinov. We guess how the enemy will move and hope that they aren't readying a trap to counter us. As for you, Vyaschelev, need I remind you that this is NOT debatable? You may not realize what you are doing, but your body still remembers and reacts. Once your memories come back to you, that self-doubt will be gone. Now, BOTH of you are dismissed! Go! Attend to the assignments I have given you while I try and figure out how to sew this operation together!"
2 hours Later
Now that he'd had time to view the city of Krasnoyarsk for himself, Anatoly had returned to his previous conclusion: this was indeed a suicide mission.
Not only were those Knightmares and tanks formidable enough, but all those newly built security checkpoints around the city seemed a threat as well, one that the Warrant Officer couldn't have bothered to tell to his armor commander. APCs, plenty of infantry. Of course, the Commonwealth men were supposed to fight through them on the way through to the depot, but STILL, any one of them could get off a lucky shot with a missile.
Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Anatoly consulted his watch again. Five minutes left.
It had to be one of the worst situations of his life, he was sure of it. Or, at least, as sure as he could be without knowing the rest of his life. To rush into a battle, not knowing if you would survive, not even remembering anything about your past except your name. Piloting a weapon you didn't even remember.
His hand ran up to the many scratch marks on the inside of his cockpit. He'd discovered the kill marks on the first day of working with Ryberskay, and counted them up. Twenty-nine Knightmares. He'd added the four Sutherlands he'd already knocked out to the tally, and it now totaled up to thirty-three kills. He must've been an extremely skilled pilot, a killer in his own right, a master of the Knightmare frame.
If only that man was here, right now, instead of his shadow. A handful of Knightmares and a few armored squads wouldn't have phased him at all. But, he wasn't here, and Anatoly had to sit in his place, in his machine, and do his job.
He'd often wondered what kind of man he'd been. Had he been a kind one, conscripted against his will but finding his place in life nonetheless? Or had he been cold, heartless, and had eagerly enlisted simply to kill? Anatoly wasn't sure he wanted to know. Wasn't sure if he wanted more information than what he already knew.
Name, rank, unit.
That was it. That was all he remembered about himself. He knew about the war, the Britannians, the cities, everything around him, but he couldn't remember a single damned thing about himself. It was like someone had simply wiped his history from his own brain...
"Vyaschelev? Are you in position?"
'Chyort! That's Ryberskay! It must be time!'
He reached over, quickly, and keyed the radio, replying "Da, sir. I'm ready to go!"
"Good. Units one and two, designation Bogeyman and Phantom are ready to go. Your future units will be known as Beartrap and Werewolf. Confirm."
"Roger, I confirm. Bogeyman and Phantom on support, Beartrap and Werewolf moving to target."
"Da. Commence the attack."
Anatoly moved his hand back to its control yoke, bringing up the gunsights on his monitor to have them hover over his targets. He would prefer to first shoot at the Knightmares, but he needed to open a hole for the infantry to get through. A hundred soldiers couldn't just sneak into a city, and the hardpoints needed to be dealt with anyway.
With two pulls of the triggers, the cannons boomed, and two security tents went up in smoke, blowing apart the soldiers stationed inside of them. Swiftly, Anatoly shifted his arm, blasting two turrets to pieces. The Britannians were beginning to react now, but he knew he could falter. He shot another round into the side of an APC, turning it into a fireball, as his second round smacked into a patrolling tank, sending it rolling to a halt as it was disabled.
Now that the distraction was underway, Anatoly knew he had little time, and switched his frequency to contact the infantry.
"Bogeyman, Phantom, the way is clear. I'm moving in to provide diversionary tactics. Give it a fifteen count before moving to the target."
"Da. Standing by until fifteen count."
As Anatoly returned his hand to the yoke, he floored the accelerators, speeding towards the city with as much swiftness as possible. Already, the Britannian tanks were swiveling around and getting a bead on him, and he couldn't let a single shot connect.
'I may just be playing dress-up in my former glory, but I know that I can definitely keep those soldiers safe. Come and get me, mudaks!'
With the security areas down and the Panzer-Hummel drawing fire away from all other happenings in town, units Bogeyman and Phantom were clear to move in.
But where were they?
The civilians were all trying to escape the conflict on the other side of the city, and took shelter in whatever sturdy building they could find. As such, the streets were unnaturally clear of any and all life. Except...
Just outside where the checkpoints had been, the ground shifted, the snow growing larger and larger in a legion of small patches. As these patches straightened, the frost fell away, exposing dark green wool coats and assault rifles gripped in gloved hands. White slid off of brown steel helmets to expose the roaring bear head symbol on each and every Commonwealth forehead, attached to the steel and painted over with green.
The infantrymen stood from their hidden positions, moving forward and securing the wreckage and the edge of town. When it was deemed that there were no more hostiles, they gestured to the pilots and crewmen, who all scrambled forward, clumsily clutching pistols, assault rifles and shotguns, not as experienced as the footmen at fighting as an individual.
Bogeyman and Phantom groups split up here. The former was escorting Beartrap, while the latter was in charge of Werewolf. These pilots were of the utmost importance to seize the vehicles in the depot, and even the loss of one could be a catastrophe.
Bogeyman took the alleyways, trying to cut around the buildings in a swerving pattern to loop around to the compound, while Phantom stuck to the streets. The thinking was that if one group blitzed their way forward and made sure the streets and machines were all secure, then the other group could move in without any delay, abandoning stealth to favor speed.
"This is Bogeyman, we're moving through."
"Phantom here. Roger that. We've seen nothing but a killed tank here."
"Keep on your toes, Phantom. You're at the most risk out there."
"We can handle it, Bogeyman. Out."
The Britannians were smart, holding their tanks back to fire from the distance they were at. Their armor wasn't even close to strong enough to stop a Sutherland bullet, much less the far larger Panzer-Hummel's cannon rounds. Instead, the Sutherlands were swarming him, all six of them working in concert to weave around him and fire bursts of assault rifle bullets at him. Anatoly tried his best to fight back, but his gunsights couldn't go in opposite directions, so he needed to instead keep his focus on dodging and firing ahead of him.
A row of vaulting snow told of another burst coming at him, and he swiveled away, bringing the offending Sutherland into view. Activating his secondary gunsights, Anatoly triggered the machine guns, and fired a long six second burst. All but the last two seconds worth of fire caught the Knightmare, and the machine crumpled before ejecting its cockpit.
A tank round smashed his the side of his machine, but luckily ricocheted before it actually did any damage more than a dent. Anatoly spun around, hitting the accelerators to avoid the fire from another Sutherland and fired a quick cannon shot at another Knightmare trying to move in for the kill. It missed as that Sutherland also moved aside.
'Chyort! Hurry it up, boys!'
Phantom had reached its objective.
The infantrymen had been forced to intimidate a few civilians back into their homes in order to keep them out of the way, and then they'd been required to gun down the Britannian infantry, about ten or so, guarding the depot, but half of the pilots that were needed had arrived. The rest would come with Bogeyman.
"Alright! Werewolf is in position and is commandeering the machines! Bogeyman, you have a go to bring Beartrap forward!"
Already, tank hatches were being thrown open, Panzer-Hummels were extending their cockpits, and the pilots had abandoned their bulky weapons in favor of warfare they knew. It would be no time at all until the heavy support was ready to roll out, and Vyaschelev sounded as though he needed the help.
"All Knightmare frames, move out and dispatch the enemy Sutherlands! All tanks, eliminate the Britannian armor!"
The order, of course, came from Warrant Officer Ryberskay from the command tent, as Sergeant Vyaschelev had no idea when his new armored forces would be ready to go.
Ten Panzer-Hummels were ready to go, and five tanks had enough men to be crewed. Two of them were the heavy T-10s, built as mainline battle tanks after the First Pacific War. They were able to beat out their lighter, older cousins, the T-3s, which were made to destroy the clumsy clunkers produced by the Britannians during the Great Overland War of 1901. None of the SU-152s, vehicles made from the ground up to destroy enemy Knightmares, were ready to go, however, and the task of eliminating the enemy Sutherlands fell to the Panzer-Hummels.
The frames in question quickly sped down the streets of Krasnoyarsk, moving for the flank to avoid the enemy tanks while the tanks, heavy and medium caliber, went straight for the kill on the enemy armor. The two groups struck at the same time, the tanks unloading their enormous shells into the enemy rear, sending Britannian tank after Britannian tank brewing up. The panicked invaders attempted to swing their guns around to engage the Commonwealth soldiers, but all eighteen remaining tanks were obliterated without a second thought.
The same happened to the Knightmares. The Panzer-Hummels had the advantage of extreme range to work with, and didn't have to close with their target like the Sutherlands did. Cannon after cannon fired, and each Britannian Knightmare fell, like dominoes, the cockpits ejecting and landing in the snow.
They had won. The battle for Krasnoyarsk was over.
Beartrap and Bogeyman reached the yard after that, and the tanks crews grabbed the heaviest pieces of armor they could find. Unfortunately, there was the problem of too many vehicles to crew, and not enough crewmen to drive them. Overall, however, the looted vehicles totaled up to all twenty panzer-Hummels, ten T-10 heavy tanks and five SU-150 frame destroyers.
"Leave the T-3s," Sergeant Vyaschelev had said as he overlooked the appropriation of the armored vehicles. "They're relics. They won't do us any good against the Britannian machines."
Bogeyman and Werewolf, still totaling twenty men each, had searched through the town and the snowdrifts where the battle had occurred, rounding up the Britannian soldiers. Overall, sixty three Britannians came quietly, and twenty more were shot down. Not a single Russian was killed in the process.
Anatoly, dismounted from his machine, watched the Britannians being filed into the yard, all with their hands up. How would they transport all of these prisoners? The trucks were going to come in handy, and with the new armored vehicles freeing up space in the convoy, they could carry more supplies. But these many prisoners?
"Stand aside, Vyaschelev."
Anatoly looked up to find Kasinov standing behind him, pistol in hand and hanging limply in his grasp.
"Just do it, Sergeant. Stand aside."
"What are you going to do?"
"What needs to be done. Stand. Down."
Anatoly looked down at the pistol in the Master Sergeant's hand, then glanced over at the infantrymen surrounding the Britannians. The invaders looked so very scared, and the Commonwealth men seemed ready to tear into them at any minute.
"No mercy was shown to our comrades at Yakutsk, or along the line of the forced march. No mercy will be show here. Sergeant, I am ordering you, for the last time, to stand aside."
Anatoly looked back at Kasinov, swallowing lightly as the pistol was leveled at him. He hesitated, looking the gun straight down the barrel before looking back up at Kasinov's cold, empty eyes.
"This isn't right." It was the last thing he said in his defense as he stepped to the side.
"No, its not. But it's what needs to be done."
Kasinov's paper thin excuse didn't convince Anatoly even before the infantry commander stepped up to a Britannian and shot him square in the head. As the foreigner collapsed to ground, the master sergeant declared "Kill them all!"
As the sound of weapons fire opened up and the Britannians began screaming as they fell, Anatoly didn't look back. He just continued to walk back towards his Knightmare, contemplating whether or not his true self would have turned around and participated in the slaughter.
(A quick little note about the tanks: With the exception of the T-3, based off of the Soviet T-34, both of the above named tanks are real world vehicles developed in WWII. They were mainly designed to take on German Panzers, Tigers and Panthers, but never got the chance to be deployed. So, working in the timeframe and Russia's technology level, I felt that it was time to let these machines have their chance.)