StarDestroyer.Net BBS

San Francisco, California, 1972

Commander Igor Legotine stood on the observation deck, just outside the bridge of his Dreadnought class guided missile cruiser and watched. Through his binoculars he observed the valiant but futile American air strikes on Alcatraz Island. The Harrier 2 attack planes were fast and maneuverable, but the traitor Yuri had fortified the island with several of his new Gatling cannons. When fully spooled up, these weapons fired at impossible RPMs, and the American fighters were easily sawed in half amid an almost solid stream of metal. Flight after flight of the VTOL-capable aircraft had attacked the island, but none were successful in finishing what they began. The nuclear reactor on Alcatraz had been badly damaged, but their true target, Yuri’s Psychic Dominator, remained unharmed. The Soviet flotilla’s presence in San Francisco Bay was unauthorized, but even if the US air jockeys had seen fit to interfere they would fail at that too. Legotine’s ship, H-26 and her sister ship, H-27 were under heavy escort. On all sides of the two Dreadnoughts sailed Sea Scorpion class picket ships. Their heavy flak cannons were more than capable of air defense, if not as much as Yuri’s new toys. Deadlier still were what lurked beneath the waves: Typhoon attack subs and sinister creations from when Yuri was still loyal to the Union.

Not that the veteran ship captain’s presence went unnoticed; quite the opposite, in fact. The squids had disabled the American hydrophones, but more conventional methods of reconnaissance had picked them up before San Francisco’s skyline was even visible on the horizon. The fact was the Americans were far too preoccupied with taking down Yuri’s Dominator. Nevertheless, the bridge had been abuzz with constant hails from the nearby American fleet. To them, the war was over, and the arrival of the Soviet Navy signaled that Russia wanted to help put down what they saw as a domestic rebellion. Commander Legotine had not responded to a single hail, and had left the noise of the bridge behind to wait for an infinitely more important message. As what remained of the Golden Gate Bridge passed overhead, Igor sighed to himself. Yes, the war was indeed over. But just as soon as the general gave the order, it would begin again.

“Comrade-Commander Legotine, please report to the bridge.”

This is it, he thought. Once these missiles fly our enemies turned allies will turn enemies once again. He quickly opened the hatch and entered the bridge. But if the general pulls this off, it won’t even matter. The Americans won’t know the difference. Legotine assumed his post and took the radio from his XO. “Ship reporting.”

It was the pleasant, sultry voice of the general’s woman, his personal communications officer. “General’s orders, you are to open fire on the Allied flotilla and secure a beachhead. Have the Dreadnoughts eliminate the naval cannons at a safe range, and then send the Typhoons and our pets to demolish their carriers. The Sea Scorpions are to run interference, of course.”

“Of course,” he confirmed. The lieutenant cut the transmission without another word. Does she really think I don’t know this already? Why does the general see fit to micro-manage such textbook naval operations? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. He turned to face his crew. “Open fire on the nearest of the Allied Grand Cannons. Inform the H-27 that their target is the other one.”

“Aye, sir!”

With that, the Soviet Union reentered World War III. The Dreadnoughts’ heavy missiles, two apiece laboriously rose into a firing position and launched, streaking toward their targets on the far shore. An Allied Aegis cruiser intercepted one, while another was shot down by a land-locked Patriot battery, but one from each salvo still hit their mark. Both of the colossal Grand Cannons were blown apart in titanic explosions. With incredible speed, the Sea Scorpions rushed the US fleet in what appeared to be a suicidal frenzy, but they were not alone. Below the waves, the wolf pack had acquired a torpedo lock on the deadliest of the American ships. The destroyers, with their sub-hunting aircraft, were the only real threat to a submerged Typhoon. However, the Ospreys couldn’t take off for fear of being torn apart amid the roiling clouds of flak the Sea Scorpions were belching out. The same was true for the tiny Hornet fighters that would normally be launched from the carriers. As the first salvo of torpedoes hit their mark, half of the destroyers buckled and sank. The remainder met an even more cruel fate. As they steamed out to engage the Sea Scorpions, plumes of foam erupted all around them. The ships were torn apart and pulled to the bottom by the Soviet Navy’s cybernetically enhanced giant squid. All the guns, armor and cutting edge aircraft in the US Navy’s arsenal were no match for the raw power of those thick, black tentacles. While the squids finished off the last of the destroyers and the helpless, solitary Aegis cruiser, the Typhoons tore into the carriers.

In a few short minutes the battle was over. The Grand Cannons had been leveled; all of the American ships were either sinking or sunk, and the general had his beachhead. It was all up to him now. His mission complete, Legotine brought the Dreadnought about and set out to leave San Francisco Bay. He radioed the lieutenant to inform her of his accomplishment. It was merely a formality, as she saw everything that transpired on the battlefield. The flotilla would steam in the general direction of Vladivostok, but Commander Legotine doubted he would make it that far. If the operation proved successful, this would never have happened, and he would remember none of it.

That is different, very good start.

I like it. I especially enjoyed the part about the general micromanaging everything ticking Legotine off.

Beautiful! It has the subtle feel of parody about it.

Thanks guys! More to come. MGS fans, be patient. Snake will be here soon! ^_^

*****

The Bay Area was in total chaos. The Americans had abandoned all efforts to directly destroy the unassailable tower on Alcatraz in favor of a much more unconventional plan. Soviet intelligence had uncovered the details of the joint US-German operation with relative ease, and had managed to relay a summary of the plot to where Ex-Premier Romanov was incarcerated in London. The former Chairman, in turn, was able to make contact with the general and green light a response. The nuclear reactor on Alcatraz Island was inoperable, and the Psychic Dominator was offline, but two more remained elsewhere in the world. Although the Californian tower failed to deploy, the other two did not, and much of the world's population had been turned to mindless zombies completely loyal to Yuri. Lieutenant Zofia Kaniak would have thought the American counteroffensive too whimsical to be true, but the means by which the Americans had won the war told her nothing was beyond the Allies and the ancient German scientist Albert Einstein. Between their Chronosphere technology and their awesome weather control machines, a plan to travel back in time and destroy the Dominators before they could deploy seemed almost routine. Einstein's temporal displacement device was actually derived from the Chronosphere. There were a few minor differences, of course. The time machine, itself a mobile platform, could transport whole battalions between any two points in time and space. The Allied chronoshift operated under similar principles, but was used almost exclusively to achieve instantaneous transit between two points in the present. The Allied plan was to displace their forces in the Bay Area to the same general location a few months ago. There they would assault Alcatraz while the Psychic Dominator was still under construction, during the first Soviet occupation of California.

Zofia was anxious, no doubts there, but she had faith in her general. During the war he had single-handedly won battle after stunningly-brutal battle. Toward the end it looked to anyone that he might bring final victory to the Union, but events beyond his control led to Russia's decapitation in one fell swoop. The critical strategic error lied in underestimating Einstein's value to the Allied war effort. The Allied Forces were a formidable opponent for the Soviet military, especially at sea and in the air. The Allied Commander-General, who succeeded the hated Ben Carville, was especially brilliant. But the simple fact was the Soviet forces had the Allies grossly outnumbered and outgunned. Despite the heavy losses sustained, much of North America and later Europe was virtually theirs in little time at all.

And then a massive Allied invasion force chronoshifted directly into Moscow. There was nothing to be done. Despite a valiant effort by Romanov's elite Black Guard, The Kremlin fell to the Americans' long-range beam weapons and their weather control machine. The Premier was captured, and Soviet forces immediately began to withdraw on all fronts. Yuri had disappeared without a trace and throughout Europe and North America the reconstruction could begin- or so everyone, including Zofia, had thought.

But then Yuri resurfaced with a vast army of his own. Hailing from parts unknown his army of mutants and psychics waged war on the entire world. During his tenure as Romanov's top advisor he had secretly plundered the treasury and used his own shadowy connections to purchase scores of old war machines, which he modified. He raised a huge, cult-like following of fanatical initiates and Eastern European mercenaries. He perfected the military applications of his miraculous psychic and genetic technologies. In the chaos brought on by the aftermath of WWIII he was poised to achieve unquestioned world domination. What the Soviet Union had planned to do in Chicago, New York and St. Louis, Yuri planned to do throughout the entire world. All of humanity would be his, mind and body.

"Ten seconds to deployment, Lieutenant, stand by."

Zofia said nothing. She merely watched from the bridge of the amphibious landing craft as the city's north shore swiftly approached. Once the three hovercrafts hit the beach, they didn't stop; instead lifting gently off the surface and gliding into town. There they finally set down and lowered their ramps. A moderately-sized task force consisting of infantry, armor and light fighting vehicles was quickly deployed. They were merely the support however; the bulk of the operation would rest almost entirely in Boris' very capable hands.

The Soviet response to Yuri’s treachery was far more ambitious and imaginative than the American plan. Although their assault on San Francisco was a virtual declaration of war, as far as Romanov and his top general were concerned the war had never ended. There was a single US Army base in the area, where the time machine was located. As soon as Boris compromised the base’s defenses, the rest of the assault force could simply roll into the base and take it. From there the Russians would use it for themselves, crushing Yuri and his army before they could mobilize. But first they would alter the outcome of the Battle of Black Forest, and thereby the war.

There was already a full-scale battle playing out in the streets of San Francisco. Yuri’s initiates were combing the city, looking for any and all sources of electrical power they could capture and reroute to Alcatraz. Although their Gatling and Lasher tanks were ancient relics of WWII, they were numerous and effective. While individually they couldn’t stand up to the US Army’s Grizzly MBTs, the heavily modified antiques were not to be trifled with. The Lasher Light Tank was a modified AFV of Romanian manufacture with up-to-date engines and a wicked spiked roller in front for mowing down infantry. The Gatling tanks were small, swift, wheeled versions of Yuri’s larger Gatling cannons. They were brutally effective against both infantry and aircraft. More effective still were the light infantry Yuri was using. His psychic initiates were unarmed, but attacked with telekinetic fireballs just as powerful and effective as any weapon. Neither side was clearly winning when Boris entered the fray, and neither side proved to be much of a match for him.

Master Sergeant Boris Gregorov was a Hero of the Soviet Union. A seasoned war veteran, he had been recruited into Spetsnaz to take part in Operation Time Shift. His favored weapon was his prototype AKM machine rifle. With its special armor-piercing rounds it was just as effective against tanks as it was infantry. Despite his rank, he was given full authority to call in artillery and air strikes. Although there were no V3 launchers or Dreadnoughts in the area, a carrier out in the Pacific had MiG attack planes on standby. Soon the city would be his. The debarkation complete, Zofia turned to face her tactical display and inform the general of the proceedings. His decision, with which she heartily agreed, was to keep the remainder of the assault force where it was and let Boris do most of the grunt work. Yuri’s Gatling tanks posed a significant threat, but the Americans seemed to be fielding a new type of heavy infantry. These soldiers were equipped with rocket launchers and could prove problematic for even the venerable Soviet Rhino tanks. Zofia smiled to herself as she watched Boris go to work. One by one purple and blue blips disappeared while a solitary red dot proceeded toward the American base. Boris would later radio in to report machinegun nests surrounding that base, preventing his infiltration. The MiGs would have to take care of those, damn the Patriots. It was slow going, and both Zofia and her general were growing impatient, but finally Boris had reported that the American base, and the time machine, was theirs. They had lost several planes in the process, but those were acceptable losses. Especially considering pretty soon this entire battle would be erased from history.

There was one problem though. Although he wasn’t an engineer, and didn’t know a word of German, even Boris could tell the time machine was offline. The displays read insufficient power and empty reserves. As the half tracks entered the base to deliver its new officers and engineering team, his suspicions were confirmed. In order to make the chronoshift, the time machine required vast amounts of electrical power. Boris was sent out once again to clear the way for the airborne engineers that would be taking over every available power station in the area. This was the same thing Yuri’s forces were trying to accomplish, and for the first time the Rhino Heavy Tank reasserted its battlefield superiority against Yuri’s wholly inadequate Lashers. Despite this, Zofia felt like the operation was taking entirely too long. Her general didn’t seem perturbed though, and if he thought everything would be alright, she was inclined to agree.

Finally, after an excruciating wait, the last of the airborne engineers radioed in and the last two power stations were rerouted. At first the Soviet engineers were baffled by the time machine, which was beyond anything they had ever seen. But the general had prudently selected engineers fluent in German, and they eventually managed to familiarize themselves with the controls. Zofia restrained herself for the impending shift. She never voiced her concerns about using a technology they didn’t understand, but they never went away either. Russian engineers were the best in the world, or so she believed, and really; what other choice did they have?

Those concerns disappeared in a flash as the world became a whirling, iridescent storm of ionized matter. As did that timeline.

Well done! I'm very much enjoying your embellishments to the YR plot. I really think you should name the Commander-Generals, though. Just refering to them as "her/his/my/etc. general" could get awkward real fast.

Minor nitpick: I'm pretty sure that Romanov was imprisoned in the Tower of London, not the Hague.

Ah, i hadn't really played Red Alert 2 before, but I know enough to tell this is damn fun to read.

Now we get the Soviet Army blowing up a horde of killer dinosaurs? It fits the jovial B-movie feel of the Red Alert games.

It'll be the story Jurassic ark 2 should have been!

Wouldn't it be hilarious if it turns out that the US has a huge oil deposit on the West Coast because of all the dinosaurs the Soviets killed being turned into fossil fuel?

Actually, in the Allied campaign there was oil to had in Hollywood.

Trogdor wrote:I really think you should name the Commander-Generals, though. Just refering to them as "her/his/my/etc. general" could get awkward real fast.

Yeah, especially if I'm going so far as to give Boris and Zofia last names. The player characters are probably going to end up being extremely important anyway.

Minor nitpick: I'm pretty sure that Romanov was imprisoned in the Tower of London, not the Hague.

Really? I guess that makes more sense. Changed, and don't hesitate to point out any other errors. It's very helpful.


*****

It took more than a moment for Zofia to regain her composure once the fiery blue maelstrom around her coalesced back into a recognizable world. She opened her restraints and immediately began working the console in front of her. Her German was terrible, but math was universal. It didn't take much analysis of the myriad dials and gauges to realize that something had gone terribly, catastrophically wrong. Simply looking out the time machine's forward viewport confirmed this; instead of the homes and offices of San Francisco, only a thick jungle of colossal trees stretched out in all directions. From what she could tell, the rest of the assault force had successfully completed the chronoshift; columns of tanks, half tracks and infantry were arrayed neatly before her. But they had all arrived far from their intended time and destination. She had her suspicions, but the chronometer could have simply been broken.

“Comrade-General, we have a... small problem.”

General Kolenka Telyanin turned to his most trusted lieutenant, who just happened to be his on again off again lover. Her position was not a function of her special status, just the opposite. His magnificent performance in the war had earned her affections, and her steadfast loyalty and competence compelled him to keep her around. There was a small amount of tension though. Like any good officer in the People's Army, Zofia was career-driven, always looking forward to that next promotion. However, Telyanin's insistence that she stay by his side prevented her further advancement. After the war they had parted ways, and Kolenka assumed she had finally acquired a command of her own. Possibly in intelligence, which was his rationalization for why she never called. The immediate postwar period was chaotic, especially in Russia. The Politburo had no chairman, and it was unclear whether the victorious Allies would even allow the USSR to maintain a military. Still, he was surprised to see that when she finally did contact him, it was on official business. She was still a lieutenant, still a communications officer. Only her haircut had changed. It was no cause for concern though, really. She was still young. Only a child during the Second World War. That made him feel downright elderly.

“What is it, Lieutenant?” He rose to loom over her shoulder. He had no hope of making sense of the display, but it was better than fidgeting in his seat.

“It appears our engineers have increased the efficiency of the Allied time machine too much,” she lied. It was one of those diplomatic, doctrinaire lies that conveyed the necessary information without stepping outside the Party line. The obvious truth was that engineering had no idea what they were doing. But skill with such weasel words was the mark of a good officer with a bright future. “We have arrived more than sixty-five million years in the past!”

Telyanin swore. He had to see this for himself. Looking outside he glimpsed the endless rainforest before them. The tops of the titanic trees were not even visible. At least his assault force was still intact. The first part of the mission had gone by without a hitch. Not a single casualty. Also, the good thing about being in the Cretaceous was that he now had literally all the time in the world. Yuri's ancestors were likely some kind of rat-like creature foraging in the brush half a world away. “Well Lieutenant, can we make another chronoshift?”

Zofia's hesitation was not a good sign. “We consumed a vast amount of power getting here, sir. We have only the reserve capacitors remaining. A shift into the future is indeed possible, but we have no guarantees how far it will take us.” She twirled a couple of dials. “And without a mobile construction vehicle...”

“We can't build any reactors,” Telyanin finished. “Well, we'll just have to set our destination for 1971 and shift as far as we can. Make it happen, Lieutenant. And tell those bastards in engineering to get it right this time!”

“Of course, Comrade-General.”

Kolenka lifted a radio receiver. “I'm going to radio Sergeant Gregorov directly. He needs to be informed of our predicament.”

What the hell happened!? As if the chronoshift hadn't been disorienting enough, Boris now found himself in the middle of an alien jungle. Some one screwed up. Some one really screwed up... He was leaning against a flak track when the call came in. Only two people could have known his precise location, and both outranked him. But when he opened the APC's radio box and answered, he did so casually. The Red Army considered combat skill an acceptable substitute for formality.

“Boris here.”

It was the general. “Sergeant, there's been an accident. We've chronoshifted too far into the past, the chronometer reads something like 65,500,000 BCE. Our geographic position is way off too. Apparently, the time machine is designed to compensate for terrain flux over time and was good enough not to drop us in the ocean. We're farther inland on what looks vaguely like the North American continent.”

Wonderful. “What are my orders, Comrade-General?”

“We're going to perform another chronoshift. We're not sure how far our reserves will take us, but we're going to try. Hopefully, we'll at least make it into an era that has electrical power available. I want you to defend this area while the preparations are completed.”

“Defend? From what?”

An ear-splitting roar preempted the general's answer, followed by the report of carbines. Boris dropped the receiver and picked up his AKM. He had been mowing down a squad of traitorous initiates when the first chronoshift happened, so he quickly changed the bulky magazine as he ran toward the site of the disturbance. What he saw was something right out of a cheesy American movie, made more real than his imagination could possibly accomplish. Three enormous tyrannosaurs stomped out of the forest and were charging right towards a platoon of riflemen. The conscripts fired off several frenzied shots in the dinosaurs' general direction before breaking into a panicked flight. Despite their impossible size, the monstrous beasts were surprisingly fast. The lead rex chomped down on a straggler and flung the screaming man aside like a rag doll. Just as it was about to catch another one, Boris placed several bursts of anti-armor fire into its skull. The six ton monster spasmed and crashed.

Much to Gregorov's dismay, the remaining two had broken off in opposite directions. A trio of Tesla troopers were zapping one, but the man-portable bolts of lighting did little more than piss it off. The carnivore roared and stomped, right down on one of the three soldiers. The trooper's muffled scream was more of surprise than pain, his plate mail could withstand being rolled over by tanks; damaging the vehicle more than the soldier inside. As the dinosaur hunkered down to break its teeth on the armor, it finally succumbed to a full-power thunderbolt to the head.
Finally, mercifully, the crew of a single Rhino tank had gotten off their asses and joined the fray. A single blast from the tank's main gun blew the third dinosaur apart. Unfortunately, the conscript in its mouth at the time didn't survive the fall. Boris whirled as he heard flak cannons blasting away. Directly behind him another trio of tyrants were knocking over flak tracks. The shrapnel shells they lobbed bloodied their thick, leathery hide but did little else. One of the three started stomping straight toward the time machine. Boris thumbed his weapon to full auto and sawed the beast off at the legs. One tyrannosaur, apparently accustomed to knocking over half tracks, was having a far more difficult time with a Rhino. The dinosaur was too close for the tank to fire its main gun, but the turret still traversed back and forth rapidly. The gunner was apparently trying to beat the dinosaur with his cannon. Boris relieved the crew by ventilating the creature's massive skull. The final, most distant rex finally went down under a hail of flak and small arms fire.

Boris didn't get a chance to celebrate, as the time machine finally deployed; ripping his universe apart and tossing it back into the chaotic whirlpool once again.

Beating the rex with it's main gun? Holy shit.

God bless Soviet tankers. This is awesome! Truly, this is!

Any clues on how to go about the next chapter?

Soviet armor vs. dinos=awsome

I loved the bit about Zophia lying about why they wound up in the wrong time, but then I always found it funny how the two comm. officers would assert how their side's engineers were better when the only difference in the game was the accent.

Was the part about comparing their prediciment to a cheesy American movie inspired by the Allied Hollywood mission where they were working on a flick with dinosaurs?

Anyway, please do continue. I look forward to their arrival in the MGS world.

It'd be cool if Snake saw the blinding flash of the Chronoshift as he HALOed.

Man, I was hoping for a lot more Soviet vs Dinosaur action. There's something about Tesla troopers going at it against the Terrible Lizards that makes me all giddy inside.

... whatever those Tesla troopers have, Snake needs one.

Anyone tried playing their 'The Music of Red Alert' CD while reading this?

Shroom Man 777 wrote:Any clues on how to go about the next chapter?

It was pretty tricky. I ended up picking a point where everyone was still alive and I would have to do as little plot and character development as possible... because I'm lazy. It's still pretty early in MGS3, though.

Trogdor wrote:Was the part about comparing their prediciment to a cheesy American movie inspired by the Allied Hollywood mission where they were working on a flick with dinosaurs?

If you must know, it was inspired by the opening cutscene to Dino Crisis 2. Ah, if only TRAT brought tanks with them...

General Schatten wrote:Anyone tried playing their 'The Music of Red Alert' CD while reading this?

I listen to RA2 music while I'm writing this at home.

*****

A chronoshift was not the most pleasant experience. Having your entire relativistic frame of reference ripped from its position in space-time and thrust into a new one was hard on the body. Telyanin had no idea how the Allied ore miners and Legionnaires, who shifted constantly, could endure their vocations. Just one more leap through time and Kolenka felt like there wouldn’t be anything left of him. As he raised the bars of his restraints, the general earnestly hoped he wouldn’t have to endure another one for a while. The Chronosphere was nothing new; Professor Einstein built the first working prototype in 1946, based on the findings of the infamous Philadelphia Experiment. Although capable of transporting a single person, his original temporal displacement device was inefficient and unreliable. The Allied Forces had not developed the technology for use as a mass transit system until late in the Great War, and even then its utility was limited and its effects dangerous and unreliable. Telyanin shuddered as he recalled the stories of armored personnel carriers arriving in battle to unload nothing but giblets, and entire naval crews fused into the hulls of their ships. Most dangerous of all were the random temporal storms that could appear without warning. Yes, during World War II the Chronosphere was about as dangerous to the Allies as it was to the Eastern Bloc. It was understandable then, that neither Romanov, Vladimir, Yuri or even himself took the technology all that seriously, because the truth was that technology was in serious need of refinement. But Einstein perfected the Chronosphere at his overlooked Black Forest facility, and that ended up costing Russia the war. Not only could the machine now shift swarms of vehicles anywhere in the world safely, it could do so permanently. Additionally, the new Chronosphere spawned an entire crop of derivative applications. Chrono-capable tanks, ore miners and even infantry. Not the least of which was the time machine now under Telyanin’s command.

Before the general could even regain his bearings, an angry Boris radioed in. “Comrade-General, what went wrong!? Why are we still here!?”

“Wha-?” Kolenka looked out the time machine’s forward viewport and, much to his chagrin, saw that Boris was right. The assault force was still in the middle of the impenetrable Cretaceous jungle. “Lieutenant, what went wrong!?”

Zofia threw up her arms in exasperation. “We had only the reserve capacitors to draw on for power, sir! I had no guarantees how far in the future they would take us!”

“How far did they take us, then?”

His communications officer checked the chronometer; then, shaking her head in confusion, checked it once again. “Comrade-general, it appears we made it most of the way after all, but still slightly short of our mark… relatively speaking, of course.”

“What’s the date, Lieutenant?”

“…1964.”

Telyanin sighed in relief. Relatively speaking, arriving three million years before their destination could be considered slightly short of their mark. Instead, they had arrived a mere seven years early. But that still didn’t explain the jungle. San Francisco was older than that, and was originally a desert anyway.

“Where are we, exactly? What’s our geographic location?”

“Unknown, sir. The time machine is underpowered, and cannot perform gravimetric or spatial analysis in this condition.”

“Can’t you just access the State Satellite Network?”

“The GPS satellites aren’t responding, Comrade-General.”

“Our codes don’t work?”

“I don’t know, sir. There’s no signal at all. It’s like they’re not even there.”

What the hell? “Find out where we are, Lieutenant. We’re between World Wars, and America still thinks it owns Russia. Broadcast a distress signal if you have to. The sudden arrival of a Soviet assault force in anyone’s territory is sure to raise hell, even in peacetime. I don’t want anyone to think our intentions are hostile.” In fact, I just need to borrow some power, and we’ll be on our way.

***

“Major! The radar! I’m reading multiple contacts, approaching from the east! They may be tanks!” The radar technician rubbed his eyes in disbelief before frantically twisting the knobs on his console. “They just appeared out of nowhere!”

The only officer present strode up to the operator and peered over his shoulder, confirming what looked like a huge group of vehicles. Only they weren’t ‘approaching’, they were parked. They didn’t appear to be moving at all. Major Ivan Raidenovitch Raikov stood up straight and punched the technician in the back of the head. “Tanks don’t just ‘appear’ out of nowhere! You were sleeping!”

“I wasn’t, Major! I swear on Lenin’s grave I wasn’t!”

“Hmph, whatever! Kruschev must be making his move… Go to maximum alert! Recall the Cobras! Recall the Ocelots! Actually, you know what? Just call the colonel!”

***

Naked Snake stood at the edge of Bolshaya Crevice, peering down into the gloom. He was in a tight spot, no doubts there. This was the third time he had blundered into the kid, and already he was starting to eat EVA’s words from earlier that morning. He really was regretting his decision to let the little punk live.

“Ah, you’re here at last.” Major Ocelot, commander of GRU Spetsnaz’s elite Ocelot unit, strode up to Snake from the opposite side of the chasm. Despite their previous encounters, he hadn’t lost an ounce of his unearned swagger. “Looks like The Boss’ info was right.”

Snake winced in annoyance. It had been barely a week since his dearest friend and most trusted mentor had turned traitor and went over the fence. In that week she had soundly defeated him twice, and last night she made herself perfectly clear that he wouldn’t survive their next encounter. Still, a part of him just couldn’t believe it was true. It was too surreal. Like something out of a dream, or more accurately a nightmare.

Ocelot drew his gun. A Colt Single Action Army, an antique .45 caliber revolver, just like the one had used that morning. There was a small difference, though. Snake was amused to see that the GRU officer had taken his advice once again, and ditched the ornate collector’s item he was toting previously for a far more utilitarian model. This weapon was a drab, gunmetal gray.

“Twice now you’ve made me taste bitter defeat,” Ocelot leveled his gun at Snake and made his bizarre animal call. Instantaneously, more soldiers from the Ocelot unit materialized out of the jungle and assumed firing positions, surrounding Snake in all directions. There was no escape.

“I hate to disappoint the Cobras, but you’re mine now. All of you, leave us!” One by one, the Ocelots reluctantly complied, lowering their weapons. “It’s just you and me. No one to get in our way. Ocelots are proud creatures. They prefer to hunt alone.”

Ocelot drew another revolver and began twirling. Snake was once again amazed at his uncanny gunplay. Even if it was a completely useless skill, it demonstrated an incredible manual dexterity that had proven itself in battle. Ocelot could even bounce bullets off of walls and use the ricochet to kill enemies taking cover. His aim was flawless.

“Twelve shots,” Ocelot mused, twirling his weapons some more. “This time, I’ve got twelve shots.” It was a reference to him running out of ammo that morning. He had used a Makarov for so long, and was still accustomed to its eight round magazine. He holstered his revolvers and assumed a dueling stance. Snake obliged by doing the same with his M1911.

“Okay… draw!”

Snake didn’t, instead diving behind a rock as Ocelot shot up the patch of dirt he had been standing on just a moment before. Snake rolled to his knees, broke cover and fired, forcing Ocelot to take refuge behind a tree. Snake dashed along the face of the cliff, trying to reach a place where he could target the Russian once again.

“Major, forgive me! I can’t just watch!” One of the soldiers stupidly decided to join the battle, armed only with an M37 shotgun. The weapon was almost useless at that range, and his frantic blast had missed anyway. Snake dropped him without a second thought.

“You fools! I told you to stay out of this!” Ocelot emptied the last of his rounds into the rock Snake was hiding behind. The former Green Beret had been keeping count, and immediately charged into the open to gun down his assailant. Ocelot had anticipated this, however, and was already heading for cover the moment Snake had broken his. The only thing Snake ended up hitting was a lot of air and Ocelot’s bright red beret.

“My hat!”

Now Snake was on the offensive. He ditched the .45 in favor of an AK-47. With his assault rifle on full auto, he began blazing away, filling Ocelot’s tree with holes. Unfortunately, while dead, the tree was still mostly solid; too solid to penetrate with rifle rounds, at least. Meanwhile, the GRU officer was frantically reloading his revolvers, and enjoying it immensely.

“I’ve never felt a tension like this before!” He declared as he finished one pistol and immediately started reloading the other. “That’s so different from simply changing a clip! This reload time is exhilarating!”

Snake had suspected the kid had a few screws loose, but now he was certain the major was batshit crazy. At any rate, he had found a sure-fire way to get Ocelot out of his hiding spot. He thumbed his rifle to single fire and blasted a hornet’s nest directly above the Russian’s head. Incensed, the insects poured out of their shattered hive and flew straight for the nearest mass of warm meat.

“Ow! Damnit! Fight fair!” Snake agreed that might have been a little low of him, but before he could apologize Ocelot was reloaded and ready to go. He had even recovered his hat. As soon as the major exposed himself they were at it again. It was a virtual stalemate until Ocelot abruptly stopped firing. He couldn’t have been out of bullets, at least not by Snake’s count.

“Damnit, no! Not now!” Ocelot was glaring at the radio that hung from his belt. The light was red and it beeped the designated emergency alert signal. “Everyone, withdraw immediately! Back to base, Groznyj Grad is under attack!”

“What? What’s wrong?” Snake demanded. It probably came off as a taunt, but he was genuinely curious.

Ocelot kept him in his sights until he felt safe, then he turned and ran. “You were lucky! We’ll meet again!”

Snake turned to see that every one of the Ocelots- minus the one he killed- had disappeared. Whatever was going on, it was obviously a bigger threat than a lone CIA agent in their territory. Snake took a knee and radioed the major; his major.

“Major, what’s going on? I was ambushed by the Ocelots, but they just broke off and ran all of the sudden. It seemed like they were recalled to defend some base. Groznyj Grad, or something like that?”

Major Zero’s response wasn’t immediate. “…Groznyj Grad, Russian for “the Dreaded City” is a secret GRU installation in that region. We can only assume that’s the base Volgin and his men are operating out of.”

“Whatever it is, apparently it’s under attack. Who do you think it is? Kruschev?”

“Possibly, but it was my impression that the Premier didn’t have that kind of influence over the military anymore,” he paused. “This complicates things…”

“You’re telling me. If Kruschev could just take care of Volgin himself, why am I even here?”

“Your mission is still the same, Snake. Rescue Sokolov, destroy the Shagohod, and make sure Colonel Volgin and The Boss don’t survive this attack, whoever the attacker may be... Actually, it might just make your job a little easier. With Groznyj Grad under siege, security around OKB-812 will be relatively lighter. Proceed en route and infiltrate the Granin Design Bureau, where Dr. Sokolov is being held.”

Snake peered down into Bolshaya Crevice once again. That had to be one hell of a fall into the caves below. “Alright, Major. Understood.”

The SAS veteran tried to sound reassuring. “I’ll get on the blower with the CIA Director and inform him of this latest development. It could be important.”

Ah, Ocelot, batshit insane as always. Wonderful.

And you're not kidding that the Chronosphere needed serious refinement. I still remember having it blow up and take half my base with it in the last RA1 mission.

One thing: if you want to be technical about it, the Chrono tank came before Einstein created a Chronosphere 2.0. In fact it wasn't even in RA2.

Being quite unfamiliar with RA2, I was only able to really 'get' the MGS3 part -- tactical realism (specifically Snake expending the AK-47's ammo without clear reason) within the setting aside, my sole nitpick is wondering why Ocelot didn't at least once try to use his ricochet skills that were specifically mentioned...

Other than that, liked the nature of your fog of war that's set up the imminent red-on-red (literally) clash -- and wondering what role the Boss (assuming that her character is the exact same as in the game) will play at this point.

Excellent job. As someone who played MGS3 a while ago, this scene brought back fond memories. I could see Snake rolling, me smashing the first-person button and my aim be totally off as Ocelet scrambles to safety.

Kudos. Can't wait to see things start to deviate.

Ocelot is a dick. But I can't wait to see the Fear get his comeuppance! What a dick.

Edward Yee wrote:Being quite unfamiliar with RA2, I was only able to really 'get' the MGS3 part -- tactical realism (specifically Snake expending the AK-47's ammo without clear reason) within the setting aside, my sole nitpick is wondering why Ocelot didn't at least once try to use his ricochet skills that were specifically mentioned...

Ocelot doesn't use those skills (in game) untill the later parts of the fight after you've got him a few times. Obviously in this reality the fight's ended prematurely before Ocelot get's around to using them.

Anyway its a nice fic, Raptor I hope you continue.

Damm good...when it pops the next update??

I haven't abandoned this, I've just been insanely busy. There unequivocally *will* be a fair-sized update this weekend, from there it will resume its original frequency. I'm thrilled you're all enjoying it though.

Chonarya Peschera Cave

Snake regained consciousness lying flat on his back in about two inches of water. He had no idea how long he had been out; it could have been minutes or hours- probably the latter. He groaned as he sat up straight. That had been quite a fall, but he seemed uninjured. He struggled to his feet to test his legs. No problems there either. Finally, as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness around him, he flicked the switch on the small device that had jerked him out of his torpor, his radio. He checked the incoming frequency before responding.

“Snake, are you alright?” EVA's voice was full of concern. “I've been trying to get a hold of you for hours!”

So I did lose more than a few minutes, great. “I'm fine, EVA. I just caught a short nap at the bottom of Bolshaya. These caves take me out into the mangrove swamp, right?”

She sighed in relief. “Ocelot was beginning to worry you didn't make it. There haven't been any alerts since this morning. I was beginning to wonder myself...”

“Wait,” Snake's head still hurt a little. “Ocelot was worried... about me?”

“Uh, yeah,” EVA responded.

“Why?”

“You mean you haven't figured that out yet?” she chided.

“What are you talking about?”

The KGB operative laughed, “You really are dense, you know that? Anyway, there's been one hell of an interesting development while you were out.”

“The reason Ocelot pulled out before he finished me off?”

“That's right,” she confirmed. “At about 0800 this morning we detected a large ground assault force moving in from the northeast. At first we thought it was Khrushchev coming to crush Volgin, but that didn't make any sense.”

“Because Brezhnev's faction controls the Army?” Snake attempted.

“Yeah, the Chairman knows all about Volgin's treachery, but he doesn't have any proof that OKB-754 wasn't a covert NATO attack. The calls for revenge are mainly coming from the Stalinist half of the Army, of which Volgin is a part of. Realistically, Khrushchev couldn't mobilize and control a force that large, at least not to attack his political rivals. He'd have an instant coup on his hands.”

“Right, so who attacked Groznyj Grad?”

“No one 'attacked' us, Snake. Apparently, they're reinforcements.”

“Reinforcements? From more of Brezhnev and Kosygin's allies?”

“Uh... not quite.”

“Then who?” Snake was getting impatient with all the ambiguity.

“We have no idea. Not yet, at least. According to base surveillance, they appeared out of nowhere. Completely without warning, hence the alert.”

“Hmm, sounds like someone was asleep at the radar,” Snake growled. “Then what?”

“And then they started broadcasting a distress beacon and radioed in for assistance.” Snake could almost hear the shrug in EVA's voice. “They're Red Army, that much is certain, but they're under the command of a General Kolenka Telyanin. Someone I've never even heard of. He must be incoherent, because the transcripts from the first exchange don't make much sense. Something about needing huge amounts of energy...”

“Petroleum?”

“No. Raw electricity, apparently. Direct current. Isn't that the damnedest thing? Anyway, he pulled rank on Volgin and is moving into Groznyj Grad right now to resupply his forces.”

“What the hell...” Snake had to agree, that definitely was weird. “And the colonel's accommodating this guy's demands?”

“Well, as much as he can,” EVA answered. “Volgin can't realistically say no to a general without straining an already highly unstable situation. Besides, these guys are riding heavy kit we've never seen before. We have no idea what they're capable of.”
“You mean to tell me these newcomers have stuff that even you don't know about?” Snake was incredulous, to say the least.

“Listen,” EVA whispered over the radio. “I have to let you go, Snake. We're heading out to meet their senior command staff in person. I'll tell you everything I know as soon as I can!”

She cut transmission without another word. Snake immediately adjusted the dial and radioed Major Zero. “Major, did you get any of that?”

“I heard every word, Snake. So far, your mission remains the same, but we have to be prepared to adapt. This turn of events could change everything in very short order.”

“Nothing from the Director?”

“CIA, SAS and the Pentagon are all watching this like the hawks they are, but we still don't have enough information to act on. Just continue on course to OKB-812, alright?”

“Understood, Major. Snake out.” The former Green Beret clicked off his radio and took a moment to get his bearings. In the corner of the swamped chamber lied an emaciated corpse in a very advanced state of decomposition. Snake ripped a torch out of its brittle arm and ignited it. He then began to wade his way back to the surface.

Groznyj Grad

Corporal Johnny Sasaki wiped his nose on the inside of his balaclava. The weeks of enduring the bitter mountain winds had demolished his already weak immune system. Despite his constant, almost compulsive hand washing, the GRU soldier had caught cold; again. This was the third time in as many months. On top of that, the thin vapors that barely qualified for air left him constantly breathless. In short, he was miserable. He would normally be absorbed with self-pity, bemoaning his deteriorating condition. He wanted nothing more than to take some soup and sleep for several years. This time was different though. His misery was eclipsed by the bizarre events unfolding before him. After the colonel, his first encounter with the Cobras and catching a glimpse of the new Shagohod, Johnny thought he had seen it all.

He hadn't seen anything.

Flowing into Groznyj Grad's gates were a collection of vehicles he had never seen before. Half tracks that hadn't seen use since the Great Patriotic War; topped with comically large cylinders Johnny could only assume to be some kind of weapon. Perhaps a mortar? And then there were the tanks. They shook the ground as they rolled in, and the speed at which they did so was disconcerting. They were even bigger than the base's compliment of IS-4 heavy tanks: Top-of-the-line models that were not even supposed to have entered mass production. At the rear of the procession was a huge, tracked dome the size of a building. That largest vehicle didn't appear to be armed or even armored. Johnny's mind raced furiously to guess its function. Mobile radar?

But with the Shagohod restrained within the main hangar like the beast it was, anything seemed possible. To Corporal Sasaki, the most otherworldly thing about these newcomers were the ground troops, the infantry. Most of the considerably large group wore full body armor. Brown flak suits complete with full-faced helmets. Johnny couldn't readily identify the carbines they carried, and they didn't even seem to be a Kalashnikov variant. They looked more like the rifles the Western powers had used during the war. A few of their number were even more heavily armored, decked out with what appeared to be plate mail lined with rubber. Those troops didn't seem to carry any weapons at all.

The soldiers next to him suddenly snapped to attention, and Johnny quickly did the same. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the reason why: The brass had finally arrived. Colonel Volgin led a small group of officers, agents and soldiers- a virtual who's who of Groznyj Grad: Majors Ocelot and Raikov flanked him on either side; with the women, Tatyana and the American traitor bringing up the rear. Volgin crackled with static as he passed, and issued a guttural 'as you were' under his breath. Johnny immediately relaxed and turned to see what had changed. A lot, apparently.

A hatch had opened on the side of the huge dome tank, and the folks in charge of the newcomers dismounted. The two figures who joined up with one of the ground troops and strode out to meet Volgin. As they got closer Johnny could get a good look at them for the first time: A tall man with a general's uniform and a young female lieutenant with an odd, form-fitting uniform. The soldier who accompanied them was the most normal-looking. He wore fairly plausible- but still unfamiliar- BDUs and had a huge machine rifle thrown over his shoulder nonchalantly. Volgin saluted the general grudgingly. Johnny had never seen the colonel salute anyone before.

“General Telyanin I presume?” Volgin grunted. He held his salute only long enough for the general to return it. His eyes wandered up and down Kolenka’s resplendent dress uniform. He didn’t recognize half of the ribbons and medals, and the half he did recognize seemed even more unlikely. “I am Colonel Yevgeny Volgin, GRU Spetznaz. Welcome to Groznyj Grad.”

Telyanin nodded cordially. “You presume correctly, Colonel. I thank you for such generous hospitality on such short notice. I assure you that I have an explanation for all of this. Whether you believe me or not is a different matter entirely.”

Volgin snorted at the understatement, and the young GRU officer in the black uniform and red beret shifted uncomfortably.

The general gestured to the soldiers on either side of him. “This is Lieutenant Zofia Kaniak, Army Intelligence. And this is Master Sergeant Boris Gregorov, Special Operations.”

Volgin turned to the younger woman in the KGB uniform, who merely shook her head and shrugged. “I’m afraid we’ve never heard of you, Comrade-General,” Thunderbolt observed coolly. “And I can’t help but think I should be very familiar with someone of your rank, who wears the Order of Stalin on his breast.”

Kolenka nodded amicably, as he fully expected a fair bit of incredulity. “As I said Colonel, I have an explanation. Surely you must be wondering who I am, and why we’ve come bringing weapons, equipment and vehicles that haven’t been developed yet. The answer is actually quite simple, but it will be extremely difficult for you to believe.” The general looked a tad sheepish. “You see Comrade, that device behind me is a time machine. We are from the future. The year 1972, to be exact.”

The three GRU officers immediately started laughing, while the two women exchanged nervous glances. Volgin was the first to contain his amusement. “You are a gifted comedian, Comrade-General. But you have no need to lie to me. You are not obligated to tell me anything I do not need to know, and I am at your complete disposal.”

Telyanin sighed. “Is it really that difficult to believe? It is Einstein’s latest creation, derived from the hated Chronosphere the Allies used during the war. It operates on much the same principles!”

“Chronosphere?” Volgin demanded. “Einstein? As in Albert Einstein? He’s dead. Forgive me sir, but just what are you talking about? What war?”

“The Great World War II, of course.”

Volgin’s response was slow and deliberate. “Sir, to my knowledge, we did not use anything like that during the Great Patriotic War.”

“Patriotic?” Telyanin had never heard that one before. “No, we didn’t use it. The Allies did.”

“And we were not part of the Alliance during the war?”

“Excuse me, Colonel?”

Zofia nudged her general gently and whispered into his ear. “Comrade-General, I do not recognize any of these tanks.”

The immediate significance of that remark was lost on him. “Colonel Volgin, our time machine’s power reserves have been exhausted. We need enough electricity to perform a chronoshift and return to our time. If you provide us with what we need, you will be doing a great service to the Motherland. World War III will end in our favor!”

Zofia tugged on his sleeve.

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, remember how we could not make contact with the satellite network?” She whispered.

“Satellite network?” Volgin overheard. “What is all this?”

Kolenka caught his woman’s penetrating stare, and a horrifying realization suddenly dawned on him. “Colonel, please forgive such an odd question, but what year is it?”

“It’s 1964, of course. Why?”

The general gestured to the vehicles arranged neatly in the motor pool. “What kind of tanks are these?”

“They are IS-4 heavy tanks.”

“But the IS-4 had twin cannons!”

“The Red Army has never fielded a tank with twin cannons, General!” Electricity flared up all around Volgin.

“Are you carrying a Tesla coil!?”

“A what!?”

“Sirs, comrades, please!” Zofia stood between her two superiors. “Colonel, what year did this Great ‘Patriotic’ War take place?”

“We entered the war against the Nazi scum in 1941, and crushed them in 1945,” Volgin recited.

Telyanin’s eyes were wide. “Lieutenant, where the hell are we?”

“I am not entirely sure, sir. But based on this, it appears that we are in an alternate timeline!”

“Is that even possible!?”

“I am not a physicist, Comrade-General!” She threw up her arms in exasperation. “I would have thought time travel itself to be impossible!”

“So we’re stranded in a completely different world…” Telyanin was staring blankly into space. His observation directed at no one in particular.

Volgin looked even more bewildered. “General, why don’t you come inside out of the cold? We can discuss this over dinner.” He turned to the long-haired officer. “Major, see to it that our guests are taken care of. There should be enough room on the runway for their vehicles. We can keep their men in the hospital if the barracks are too full.” The major saluted his superior and strode toward the column of alien tanks at a brisk pace.

Telyanin turned to Volgin. “I’m not insane, Colonel. Really, I’m not.”

“Of course not, Comrade.” Volgin nodded indulgently. “None of us are.”