-Before we start, this part cuts directly into the part where i left off last time. Maybe have a look there if it looks a little abrupt-

>[Now, am i going to have to keep telling you people how much better i am or can we get going and-]

Lily starts getting excited. She had never been able to scream at people who both respect her and are afraid of her

>[AND GET YOURSELVES USEFUL SO WE CAN WIN THIS WAR]

Lily was usually quiet in her new company, and made a sport of using as few syllables as humanly possible: and the words she did speak, it was quiet, so people listened. Maybe the thought she was smarter as well. So when that flipped, and she screamed like a Stuka falling out of the skies at 400 miles per hour, engine and sirens trying to drown each other out, people listened.

But no one moved. Not only because no one has ever screamed like that, because they were actually terrified of her or because her accent had slipped into a heavy Austrian one she hadn’t spoken since she was 14. The stood still because they had no idea what to do

Lily’s eyes were now glowing with something that had long left her

>[Okay, then there will be orders]

This time she spoke in a voice of barely controlled rage

>[I want the maus worked on twenty four hours a day. If the mechanics work 14 hours a day, so be it. If they complain, tell them i worked, trained, studied and fought for up to 18 hours a day for 9 years straight. And then fought a war. Now get out of here before i get angry]

And they moved. Never have 12 people left a room this quickly or this silently. The did start shouting when they got out, putting the men to work. Lily then turned to Irma, and the beast in her was really started to come alive.

>[And you are going to cook me a three course meal. I want meat and red wine, the rest is up to you. Have it in my room at 18:30, which is two hours and eleven minutes from now. Wouldn’t want you in the garage, would we?]
Under normal circumstances, being ordered into a kitchen would have provoked a volcanic reaction from Irma. But she saw something had happened to the Austrian in front of her. She was just as afraid of the monster that had been awoken. But it took all of her strength to not smirk. This was much, much better than anything she expected

-[Yes]

She lowered her head and bent her knees a little before turning around and leaving the room. Bowing down hurt a little bit, put perhaps this, whatever it was, was worth fueling, even if it cost Irma some personal pride.

At the same time, somewhere not that far away five men sat inside a large 6 wheel drive military transport truck, a Ural 4420.

‘[Comrades. We've been contacted]’

On older man with graying beard and thinning hair stood against the short side of the little room in the back of the truck

‘[Yesterday, we had a call from a device we were unable to track. The person gave us a lot of information, unconfirmed, of course, but it is being processed as we speak. What is of greater weight is who the person actually was. When our operator asked who it was, the person identified herself as a Chelyabinsk.]’

‘[The city?]’ A younger man, Kolja, replied ‘[I knew a girl from Chel-]’
‘[Of course not, Mudak. If it's true, she's named after the ChTZ tractor factory in the city]’ A third man, Alexandr, replied

The older man sighed

‘[Kolja I do not understand how this is new to you. And Alex, try to keep your damn history lessons to a minimum. Just the short version]

‘[Of course, Capitan]’

If the man actually held the rank of captain, or it was a respectful nickname, they were not sure. Alexandr continued.
‘[During the great patriotic war, most nation had caretakers assigned to their tanks. Originally it German tradition from the previous war. And it has since been most used by the Fascists. A maiden with special training assigned to a tank, to care for it and its crew. And it is true Rodina experimented with similar ideas. But they turned into freaks of nature, and only some of the very strongest survived. These were assigned to some heavy tanks in the last part of 1944 and the beginning of 1945. She said she was called Chelyabinsk, and it is true that factory produced IS-3 tanks. Anyhow, these… maidens were praised to the skies by Stalin himself and he is recorded to have saying they were his daughters, since the tanks were named after him. After his death, they fell out of favor and was…]

Alexandr fell silent. The others looked at him with curious eyes, except the Captain, who knew how this story ended

‘[The gist is, all who stayed in the union was removed from their machines and. Having one who has survived this long is absolutely exceptional]’

‘[Why do we care?! She has lived a hundred years! She's a beast! A Ghost! An unscientific creature! May our paths never cross!]’


‘[Stalin's daughter…]’ the Captain sounded both a little frightened and astounded ‘[That would be quite someone to have on our side. Especially against the Germans]’

‘[I plead to you, Captain! Return to your senses! This is-]’
‘[The long lost child of the man who freed the world from the claws of evil. What do you think will happen back home if we had her?]’ Kolja clearly didn't share Alexandr’s opinion.

‘[Calm down now. The maiden, if there is one, is not the point. This message was a call to arms. That is what we have to consider]’

The men keep discussing what to do, and a few other things. All while the rain pours down on the old Ural, the entire base and two old heavy tanks.
~~~

How long time has passed? It was very hard to say. No one could really tell how long they had been asleep when they finally woke up. Without a clock, it could be hard to tell what time of day it was. Without the sun, it was hard to tell how many days have passed. Time became little more than a thick sludge. Did it race or did it barely move at all? What was time anyway?

The only real unit of measurement with time was the second. A second is defined by time taken for 9,192,631,770 cycles of radiation that comes from electrons moving between two energy levels of the caesium-133 atom. All other units was either splitting the second up, or adding more of them together. But, what's a radiation cycle? What's these energy levels? What's Cesium? Why did it have a number? How come certain seconds changed the lives of men and women forever and some other seconds didn't do anything. No one can hold on to a second, or let it go.

You are in a room. The lights are out. You've been in here for… you don't have a clue. You can't tell the difference between 8, 12 or 24 hours, so you can't count the days by how often you are fed. No one had came in here in a long time. What did time even do? It was just all a fucking sludge? You had to see Lily. Had to. Before this turned into-

‘Anon’

The door clicked and Benson entered with Wendy in tow

‘Sit up’

He had been in here a few times. Or many? You couldn't remember anymore. But he sounded different this time. It had something final about it. So you wobbled up to the chair to defend someone who had stabbed you. Who even does that?

‘Your sweetheart is heading to Utah. Wendover, specifically. Along with many many more people, and vehicles. You will turn her in. To me’
“Won't”
‘Think very carefully now. I've given you way more chances that you should have had. This is your last’
“Nah”
He looks into you. Deep into you soul. It felt like that anyway. Your expression was worn and tired, but not faltering

‘You're not giving a traitor, and an enemy up and there is nothing I can do to convince me otherwise’
“She's not my enemy”
‘She did betray you’
“Remind me. How well did that tactic work the last times you tried it?”
‘Then you are of no use to me or anyone’

He presses a button on his hearing aid and puts a little yellow earplug in the other.

‘Shoot him’

There was a grim inevitably to it all. You wouldn't be able to move fast enough to get to cover or use Benson as cover. Wendy was already wearing those big green ear covers. You were looking into the barrel of a handgun. Normally you would try think of what kind of gun it was but you could really only think about how much the noise level indoors would suck.

Benson was basically deaf, and was waiting for the man in front of him to collapse as the 9mm projectile hits the front of his head.

“Yo Wendy”
‘Don't try talk yourself out of this”
“Nah. But the rucksack I had with me. Hand it to Lily if you see her”

The mention of Lily did seem to have an affect on her. She just looks at you with a face of stone. You can see her right eye through the sighs on the pistol. But she lowers it to your great surprise. She looks at you, like she is about to start interrogating you. Benson turns around at her, looking just as surprised as you are.

‘Fuck’

What Wendy said sounded way too much like a question. Your mind fail to grip the situation at all and you manage to just stutter out a confused “what”. 
    ‘Yeah? So?’
    “I'm sorry there is no polite way of putting this but what the fuck are you on about?”
    ‘Ruuude. That was just a question’
    “I don't even know where to start questioning this. I was being interrogated a minute ago”
    ‘You still are’
    “You make less sense for every word you say”
    ‘Ohhhhh. You thought I meant me. Nono, I mean Lily’
    “I still don't have a clue what you are on about”

    Wendy sighs heavily

    ‘You. Lily. Did you-’
    “Let me stop you right there. What does that have to do with anything at all?”
    ‘Might save you from the gun. So, yes or no?’

    Benson finally got his hearing aid back in and started shouting at Wendy

    ‘Zip. It. Wrinkles’

    She looked back at you, still looking for an answer

    “Uhm… You wouldn't?”
    ‘Hell yeah I… hang on what kind of question is that?!’
    “As if you have room to speak!”

    ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP’

    Benson screamed so much he almost dislodged his lungs

    ‘Wendy, shoot this man. Immediately’
    ‘Nah, Bensosaurus. I'm not smoking this guy’
    ‘Are you getting soft?’
    ‘I've been soft for a long time, which you would have seen, had you not been into little boys. So listen here. These krauts-’
    “She's Austrian”

    ‘Alright alright. The Krauts and their Austrian friend are trained from like their early teens that feelings are basically treason to everything the Reich was. Other people was there to be exploited, to kill more Joes, Nigels and Ivans. Now, one of these having feelings is basically unheard of. And she opened her legs. This shit doesn't happen. So, if I was to blast this guy, all the fury that body can manage, and trust me on this, it's a lot, will be channeled my way’

    ‘You're scared’ Benson laughed to himself. ‘You're actually scared’

    ‘You bet your wrinkly old ass i am scared of her. You know why? Because the only difference between Lily and the damn grim reaper is a pair of… Uhm. Anon, How big is she?’

You roll your eyes as things get more and more ridiculous

“Does that really matter here? really?”
‘...Not technically, i was mostly curious. Point is, she is basically the Grim reaper with tits. that’s the gist of it’

Benson stands up and looks straight into Wendy. He had that piercing gaze that was hard to replicate

‘You. You are useless. This is why we have the Abrams instead of whatever the fuck you crawled out of’

Unknowingly to Benson, Wendy was a very tough girl. She could shrug of insults and hard words like nothing, and the MBT-70 could eat RPGs like a whore with a ballgag made out of candy. She could work hours to end, function with very little sleep for food, or a combination between both.

But Benson had hit pretty much the only weak point in Wendy’s formidable armor, both the literal and the figurative one

She reacted as immediately as violently. A very well aimed kick over Benson’s right knee bent it backwards and it collapsed, sending him plummeting towards the floor

‘You say that one more time’

Wendy picked up a very sizable pair of brass knuckles, treading them over her hands

‘And i will skullfuck your grandchilden with my Ironclad fists. That is a promise. So much as mention that again, and it will be the last thing you do. Now you also have found yourself in a situation where you are unable to walk, and are unarmed. I'll go and blow off some steam before I do something I will regret’

Wendy turns around and reaches for the door handle. But in a last defiant act, Benson scoffs out another word

‘Useless!’

Wendy turns around, raises her right foot of the floor and slams it down with full force. The floor slowly turns red by arterial blood

“Uhm…”
‘He had it coming’

Wendy looks at her tall black boot, which also has gotten a new colour

‘We should probably leave’
“Yeah…”
‘I'll just wash off and they have nothing on me’
“Yeah, this is my cell though”
‘You're free to stay’
“I think I'll have to pass on that offer, let's go”
Wendy takes her boots off, gets out of the room and locks it after her

“Hey, slow down, could you?”
‘What?’
“Few things. Where am I?”
‘Same place we first met. Depot’
“That… is a long way from where i should be. Second, how long was i in there?”
‘About a week’
“Shit. Two more things, i need some proper food, and i need a damn gun. This handing over for a phone bullshit won’t fly anymore”
‘Rifles in the cafeteria is generally considered a tad vulgar. Food first, and i’ll bring you up to date on what’s happening’
“Sounds fine to me, been dying for some proper food for a while now”

Wendy laughed

‘Proper? We fed you the same stuff in there that we eat. Nobody here can cook for shit’

She says that as she opens to door to what is now the cafeteria. It is crammed full of people at tables talking and having a little calm break in the day while eating their “food”. The Depot had certainly changed since the few months. The dead, empty hole that it basically was had been long forgotten in favor of an actual military base. Or looked like one anyway

“Oh, and by the way, i’m happy i’m out again. You’ve… uh changed a little since last time as well”
‘Sorry about that. Oh, and yeah, i was… pretty badly humiliated by Lily last time. I think the term is called “growing a pair”, and i’d say i did that pretty well!’
“Yeah, surprisingly so. Mind if i ask how?”
‘Easy. 1980s action series. Miami Vice specifically’
“...what”
‘That show is great. OH! I almost forgot! You had the Porsche here last time, yeah?’
“The 911, yeah. Turns out Porsche has a history of other things…”
‘Well fuck that. Point is, I did a bit of shopping in his name, and I got the car!’
“From Miami Vice?”
‘Yes!’
“Which one?”
‘Uh… the flat one. The one the drug dealer has?’
“I seem to have developed a headache. Let's get some food instead?”


===========


The depot was crammed full of people. Those who wanted to try their luck with the tanks, those who just wanted to help, and several hundred who were making ad hoc MRLS systems to be mounted on cars and trucks, in the style of the old soviet Katyusha rocket artillery. The place was buzzing with life, as anything in fighting condition would be sent west in a day or two, to face the predicted arrival

You were eating three or four servings of the sludge that passed for food here and lazily looked at the people walking around or eating “food”

“So, come on. What have i missed?”

Wendy tries to speak, with her mouth stuffed full of food and does manage to get some sounds that can pass for words out. To no surprise to anyone, it wasn't leading her anywhere. But instead of swallowing, Wendy keeps eating and trying to talk at the same time, despite her inability to talk properly. But you sort of understand what she says after the fourth or fifth time

The gist of it was lot of resources in all shapes and sizes were relocating to Utah. The information in the landing had spread like wildfire to everyone, especially people of fighting age. But Wendy made it clear that most were moving to Salt Lake city, about 70 miles and a small mountain range east of the flats themselves. A place much safer than Wendover, situated at the westernmost edge of the flats

‘So…’

Wendy started, still with food in her mouth

‘Salt lake city is 3 to 4 hours of drive away at tank speed from the flats. Do remember the flats are massive, 50 miles wide for the most part’
“It will be interesting, since most guns can fire a lot further than the effective range”
‘Yeah, it’s a very strange situation because of the flatness of it all. And-’

Wendy takes another spoonful of food and starts chewing
‘-Most old tank guns will work just as well as artillery pieces. Just load HE and fire away. I think even the shermans can get rounds away five or six miles”
“Interesting…”

You look at Wendy with confusion as she went for a third portion of food

‘What?’
“You eat for three people”
‘Whatever. But… what i find deliciously intriguing the your relationship to Lily’
“That was a bit sudden”
‘Yes… the intrigue… you’re both creatures with too much pride to take the first closing step, i think’
“Why do you interest yourself with this”
‘Romcoms get boring after a while’

She leans in and lower her voice to make sure no one around heard her

‘My kind either die quickly or live long. I have to do something with my time’
“Riiight…”
‘For instance, it would actually surprise me if Lily just spend her days in the tank’
“Whatever, Miss romcom expert, what do I do then?”
‘So you do want to get back with her?’
“I'm not sure. There is still-”
‘Ahhh, i get it. You want her crawling back to you?’
“Uhh… Well...”
‘Okay, you want to be with her, but don't want to look bad. And you are expecting Lily to crawl?’
“Well, not exactly-”
‘So!’

Wendy was getting excited

‘If you want her to come back, you have to do something really impressive. And this isn't your high-school crush or anything, this is a Nibelung, which raises the level. Significantly’
“We have to get to Utah either way. And to give me just a bit better odds, i'm probably gonna have to take that Miami vice car off you. If memory serves, they had a Testarossa, or a 512”
‘What's that?’ Wendy asked as she gulped down the last of her food
“Ferrari Testarossa. That and the 512 are basically the same, but at different model years”
‘Ohhh, that's the car, right?’

You groan heavily and bury your face in your hands

“Yes Wendy, Ferrari makes cars”
With that, the two of you left the cafeteria and headed away. The garages and the workshops were crammed full of M60 Main battle tanks, from little repairs and topping up engine oil to full assault gun conversions. One had even lost most of the upper chassis for a gigantic 8 inch artillery gun

There was also an endless rocket production. Some were homemade, but but many were also all different kinds of rockets the army used. From Hydra rocket pods to massive, 700 lbs, 270 mm artillery rockets

Wendy took you through the big workshop and crawled in under her MBT-70, which was cleverly parked over a little hole with a ladder in it. Despite her sizeable bust and hips, she managed to crawl in under and through the hole. You follow her, climbing into absolute darkness

“Uhh…”
‘If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands!’
“What”
‘Come on, that was funny…’

Wendy claps her hands twice and the lights slowly flicker on

“Clappers are the biggest fad in history”
‘Says the Honda driver’
“What does that have to do with anything?”
‘Shush now, and behold, the Ferrari Testarossa!”

Wendy pulls a big white sheet to reveal a low, wide sportscar underneath. Body painted in white, just like the Testarossa from Miami vice

‘Now that’s what a car looks like, take your little riceburner and the the fuck outta here’
“Wendy, you don’t actually know much about cars, do you?”
‘Not really, but you said it was a Testarossa’
“Not this one, this is a Fiero with a body kit”
‘What does that mean’
“It’s not a Ferrari, it’s a Pontiac”
‘Is that bad?’
“...”
‘What’
“Wendy, as a friend i’m gonna tell you to stick with tanks, okay?”

Wendy sneezes and crosses her arms, giving you a chance to look around. Next to the Fiero there were a few other cars, all covered by white sheets. The other end of the room was lined with file cabinets. And a safe.
“Is this Benson’s stuff?”
‘Yep’
“Can you open that safe?”
‘Sorry, don’t know the code’

It Would be pointless trying to open it. A dial with 50 numbers, and large handle. that would be 125000 combinations, if it had the classic two turn pattern for the dial

“Well we’re not getting in there”
‘What a shame, i enjoy digging around in other people's stuff’
“Speaking of, what about the other cars?”
‘Bleh, bought them online, probably all shit anyway’

You shrugged, and stepped up to the next car, pulling the sheet off. Another Kit car, this time masquerading as a Ferrari Daytona cabriolet, also featured in Miami vice

“How much did you pay for this?”

Wendy didn't answer, instead opting to look smugly back at you

“I’m not even gonna ask. Or even why you bought all this”
‘It’s like the best show ever!’

You sigh heavily as you pull the sheet off the third car. This one wasn’t a kit

‘You still breathing Anon?’
“Yeah… barely”

Back at the Old guard, Miranda slept calmly on the floor of the M60A2. Having a very small frame had its advantages, very few could actually sleep inside the cover of the tank, and she had not really moved from it since the Old guard arrived in Salt Lake City the day prior

Miranda rolled around in her pile of blankets, and didn't want to get up at all. She settled for second best, digging out her ancient, but original Nintendo DS and having another go at that one Advanced wars level she couldn’t quite beat. That meant she could technically be awake without having to leave her “bed”. She kept rolling around making those little keening and almost groaning noises a little girl might do when the time to leave the bed is approaching but the will isn't quite there.

At last, the mirage of the comfortable cocoon of soft and warmth was shattered by banging on one of the turret hatches

+ Wait a minute!
Miranda scrambled around inside the tank to put on at least a T-shirt to make herself somewhat presentable.

+ Yeah?
‘It’s me, Helen’
+ Oh. What can i do for you c-commander?
‘Need to speak with you. In private’
+ I’m alone in here. You can go in if you want to

Miranda waits a few seconds for the hatch to open. Helen slides in gracefully, or rather with as much grace as it is possible to enter a tank with. She had actually taken her shoes off, as she knew Miranda tried to keep the inside as clean as it could be.

+ Why do you want to speak with me, miss commander
‘While i appreciate that someone actually calls me that, you don’t have to. Neither do you have to be afraid of me. Okay?’

Miranda nodded

‘I’m speaking to you, because you are pretty one apart from me that actually speaks to Natalya

The little one froze up at the mention of the Soviet

+ Natalya is v-very good to me. A-and-
‘You’re friends, i know’
+ i w-won’t peach on her
‘You’re rather defensive of her… and i’m not asking you. I just want to know where she is’
+ What, she isn’t here?
‘No one has seen her or the tank since last night, and she doesn’t answer either her phone or on radio’

Maybe Helen kept talking after that, but Miranda didn’t listen. Hey deep green eyes went hazy and lost focus on anything. Helen gave up on trying to speak with Miranda after a few minutes and left. She didn’t even notice that. Miranda remained motionless inside her tank for a good while. Miranda did however have one last chance. If she called, Natalya would see that on her screen. Maybe Natalya would pick up. After all the hints, the gestures, the little things, all the time she had taken her side and all the… things Natalya probably never noticed
She took her phone from the charger. No new messages. No missed calls. Just a notification saying the outside temperature was just above 40 degrees fahrenheit and it was cloudy. Swipe to unlock, press the phone symbol at the bottom left, and hold down “1”. Speed dial. The screen changed to black with white letters spelling “Calling… ICE Natalya Chelyabinsk”

Miranda added the ICE to make Natalya seem more important. Not like anyone would ever look in her phone. More scared than she can even remember she has ever been, Miranda put the phone to her ear. It rings once. It rings twice…

Natalya didn’t even hear it from the growling of the big diesel engine of the truck. She was on the Lincoln Highway, I-80, a narrow piece of tarmac splitting the salt flats in two and connecting Wendover in the west and Salt Lake City in the east

‘[It is a great honor to have you with us, Sergeant Chelyabinsk]’
¤[I am on your truck, not with you. I will discuss the terms with the captain]
‘[The captain is a good man, and i’m certain you will reach an agreement]’
¤[Maybe. I want quite a lot from him]
‘[My name is Alexandr by the way!]’
¤[So you told me]
‘[I’m sorry Sergeant, i am simply very happy to have you here. Is it true you fought the Fascists?]’

She never had. She did fight in the war, but only in manchuria, and then got transported back for the berlin victory parade

¤[I did fight in the great patriotic war]

Alexandr looks nothing short of amazed

‘[But, sergeant, i must ask you...]’

Natalya turned her head to the man sitting next to her and raised an eyebrow


‘[Your tank]’
¤[It is a machine of war, and it looks the part. It could use a little being taken care off, sure, but it works as it is. Was that your question?]
‘[Yes sergeant]’
¤[And Alex, one more thing?]
‘[Y-yes sergeant?]’
¤[Calm down]
With that, Natalya lights a cigarette, and takes long, slow puffs. She was an expert in making cigarettes last, and almost made it into a sport. The flats seemed endless. Just a sea of white and then the mountains. Like a big bowl.

Eventually, the ride came to an end at an auto shop in the northeastern part of town, where Natalya could see the size of the force. It wasn’t big. Two tanks, excluding her own IS-3. A few big Ural trucks and a few smaller ones

‘[W-would you like to-]’
¤[No. Get the captain here, and make sure the rest stay away]
‘[Yes sergeant]’

Alexandr exits the truck, and starts shouting at people, most of them getting into the main building. Natalya hops out as well, and climbs up on the trailer behind the truck, carrying the old tank. She heard footsteps from behind

¤[You are the captain?]
‘[I’ve been called that enough to almost believe it. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Natalya Chelyabinsk]’
¤[I will cut the chatter. Both have things to gain from this cooperation. But i will ask one thing of you for that]
‘[I’m not a rich man]’

Natalya nods in the direction of one of the garages

¤[That one. I don’t want to be in the IS-3 if repairs are being carried out. I’m sure you can understand]
‘[It would hurt you?]’
¤[A lot. You give me control of the IS-7, you get the IS-3, and i will fight for you]
‘[that machine is the last of it’s kind…]’
¤[It is still an additional tank fighting for you. And who is better to care for the IS-7 than me?]

The captain looks at the IS-3. It’s dirty, rusty, battered and torn.

¤[It has seen a war. I don't think you expected me to come here with a showpiece]
‘[Suppose i couldn’t. It works?]
¤[It does. In need of some love, but it works]
‘[Think you can show me?]’
Natalya took a deep breath and focused. Soon afterwards a starter motor turns the big diesel around until it has enough speed to sustain itself. Thick, black clouds of smoke pour out of the exhaust pipes as the engine roars to life. She swings the turret around a little, and elevates the gun to prove she can. The captain stares with awe in his eyes

¤[Has that proven my worth sufficiently?] Natalys asks, with a touch of sarcasm in her voice
‘[More than you can imagine, sergeant Chelyabinsk. I accept your terms]’
¤[Good. I’m going to call a friend to help me transfer to the IS-7]
‘[Of course. I’ll leave you for now]’

Natalya took her phone up. It was a rather old flip phone, but it still worked. She dialed the number in, and brought it to her ear

>Ja? 

She always replied the same way

¤ Hello Lily
>Natalya, pleasure to hear from you, if a little unexpected
¤ I’m actually calling to ask for a favor
>You keep surprising me
¤ It’s pleasant to hear i am still capable of that: I will cut it short, the IS-3 is falling apart and i would like your help to transfer me over to a new machine

The line went silent for a moment

>That comes with conditions
¤ I expected that much. Please tell
>I want to be sure we are fighting the same foe
¤ I swear on all i am worth. Same foe. Perhaps from different directions
>It would be unreasonable of me to ask for more

Lily says that with a glad undertone

>And i would like a 2 centimeter cube of steel from the IS-3
¤ Oh really… have you spoken to hi-
>Your opinions was not a part of the deal

Natalya manages a hoarse laugh

¤ Fair enough. Where are you?
>I’m afraid that is not how things work
¤ So be it. I am in Wendover
>Oh. How exciting. I’ll be in touch


==========


‘What’s so exciting about this car? It doesn't look that different from the other ones. Angles and sharp corners and stuff’
“Wendy, oh Wendy… This, my dear is a 1986 move-over-poor-person, finished in Look-at-me red. It has a five point two liter V12 with six Fuck-you carburettors. All finished with 15 inch suck-my-dick gold rims and a five foot wide fuck-you-i’m-rich rear wing”
‘...cool’
“You are just the worst Wendy”
‘Yeah, whatever man. You take the ancient richmobile, might get you laid’
“pfff. Jokes aside, this might come in useful you know”
‘How is that useful, i can’t imagine a less practical car’
“And neither can you imagine one that draws more attention to itself”
‘How is that useful in a god damn war’
“What’s that movie when they say you can get out more with a gun and a kind word than just a kind word?”
‘I don’t even think that’s from a movie. Besides, this is worse than a knife to a gunfight. This is like, a flashlight to a gunfight’
“And what if i want to be seen?”
‘I’d suggest you stop eating crayons’

The bantering session ultimately comes to an end, and you climb back out of the hole, and the MBT had mysteriously moved two feet away from the hole, so Wendy didn't have to do anything undignified to get up again. And with nothing better to do, you helped out with the tanks. While most gearboxes and hydraulic systems were more than you were could do, you could work on engines. Especially the valves that could be a little finicky on the first series of engines. Easy to break, but also easy to fix, since you had done this exact thing on several others of the tanks back at the Old guard several times
There was a bit of a lack of training at the depot. None of the people here had gone through proper training, at least not much practical. Several didn’t even know how to adjust track tension. Neither did they feel especially connected, a feeling a team gives off.

You kept helping at the depot, in the last rush to get every machine operational before all of them would be loaded up on a train and sent west, to Salt lake city. A big city would be easy to defend, and it would be easy to ship and fly in supplies. But it would take hours to get to the flats from the city.

In the city itself, amongst the defenders and argument had arisen. One group of people wanted to remain in the city, taking advantage of the streets and houses to turn the entire place into a fortress.

The second wanted to attack with an armored fist strong enough to pummel any attacker that might land on the flats. Tanks were primarily offensive weapons after all.

Helen had the devil's own time organizing everything. Defensive hull down positions were to be dug or built, just in case it all turned into a city fight.

But after she tried to drain an already empty cup of coffee she realized that might not at all be what they wanted. Tanks would have to rely very heavily on infantry support in a city environment. And at that stage, the point of an armored spearhead was all but lost

‘Helen…’

She snaps out of her trance, which was more like over focusing on reading the same god damn line of paper for the eleventh time. She looks up and sees another member of the staff.

‘What?’
‘When was the last time you slept?’
‘I don’t need sleep, i’m fueled by patriotism and… an illusion of coffee’
‘You’re a far bit from home’
‘Jolly old England is a fair distance away, undeniably, but so are her enemies’
‘Fair enough. But for now, I’ll cover for you a few hours, please get some sleep’
Helen sighs heavily. She was exhausted, heavily so in fact. And it was now getting to the point where the others started noticing the light was on but no one really was home. She moves a strand of sand colored hair out of her face and looks back up at the man.

‘How are my tanks looking, heavy section specifically?’
‘The heavy section had taken a bit of a thorn… Your Conqueror is running, the two 103s are working and ammo is for once actually not low. The T28 “works”, as much as that thing will ever work. The Starship however… is out. And we haven’t seen the Jagdtiger since christmas and the IS-3 since two days ago’

Helen sighs heavily. Again

‘And the Shermans?’
‘80%...’
‘80? Out of the 24 we have left?’
‘Yes, 19 of them are operational’
‘The heavy section is four, plus 19… and the last 5 is 28 in total. We have to stop whatever falls out of the skies with 28 tanks’
‘Do remember there is a high likelihood that both these russian and the german… groups will participate’
‘I don’t trust either. I even had a deal with the russian, which she walked out on after doing her part of it’

The room fell silent for a moment. Helen raised her voice again

‘What day is it?’
‘Wednesday’
‘Shit. I’ll go check in on Mir- uhm no. I’ll check the M… Fuck, i’ll try again. Starship. I’ll see if we can fix the starship’
‘Alright Helen. Do that and then please get some sleep’

Helen nods and walks out into the cold air. Cold, but no where near as bad as the town she grew up in. The restless wind, the salt in the sea, the salt in the air, the salt everywhere. Iron rusted, wood rotted. People got whittled away by the forces of nature, or tempered by them.

For Helen, it was the latter.

It was as if cold didn't bite on her anymore
For the second time in two days… or was it 3? Helen wasn’t even sure anymore. At any rate she walked up to the M60A2, climbed up on it and banged on one of the hatches

‘Miranda?’

These were no sounds coming from the inside. Helen shuddered at the thought of having to be delicate. It was something she could do, but it felt too faked for her to feel really comfortable doing it

‘You in there, lass?’

Nothing

‘Do you hear me?’

Still nothing

‘I'm going to go in now’

When Helen didn't get a response for that either, she opened the hatch and looked inside. The bottom turret basket was just a pile of blankets. And in the dimmed light the hatch let in, Helen could tell something moved down there. Slow, rhythmic movements. Breathing.

‘Miranda?’
+ I only answer because you're the commander, replied the pile of blankets

‘You okay there?’

The pile doesn't reply

‘I just need to know I can count on you if something big lands next to us, alright?’
+ The tank works without me
‘If you're not going to fight we have to… Miranda, please are you really going to give this up because you're sad about-’

Helen halted herself mid sentence. She got like this when she was told…

‘Wait a second, you and Natalya, are you… Uh, were…?’

The pile of blankets shuffle around a little at finally a very pale face with reddened cheeks emerges. Hair hair was beyond a mess, and her once shining emerald eyes had their glow, their life all but washed away

+ No

Miranda thuds down again and pulls the blanket over her

‘I must apologize, I didn't know you felt that way’
+ I didn’t say anything

Helen sighs, once again and sits down by the pile and strokes a part of it. Probably the shoulder
‘But you meant it’
+ I didn’t mean anything
‘Yeah, I imagined that. Natalya is pretty rotten. Completely awful, usele-
+ SHE’S NOT

Miranda flew up and screamed. But soon fell silent as she realized she had ate the bait, hook and sinker. She made a keening sound as she fell back to turret basket

‘I don’t like to do that, but it’s a bit silly to deny when you are as easy to read as an open book’
+ g-go away
‘I’m not gonna sit here and say i can help you, because i probably can’t. But i need to know if i can count on you if the skies fall. Can i?’

The pile waits a little before it replies

+ If you find her… i’ll give you something you want
‘Fair enough. But can i-’
+ Okay! If we’re in danger I’ll fight. Can you go now?

For the umpteenth time today, Helen sighs heavily. She leaves the tank, and lands down in a puddle of oily water. She’s far too tired to even care. What time of day was it anyway? She thought about that all way to the bed, and had still not figured it out when her face hit the pillow, still fully dressed.

Less than 150 miles away, Natalya stomped another cigarette butt into the ground. The silver watch on her wrist tells her she is in fact a few minutes early

¤[You can leave now]

The only other person who followed Natalya to the meeting point was the IS-7s driver, who looked up on her with a concerned face

‘[Sergeant, I have to-]’
¤ [No. Or perhaps you don't trust me? Doubt my judgment? Think I am unable to handle a situation that might arise?]
‘[N-no sergeant]’
¤ [Thus your further presence is an insult to me]

The driver realized the discussion was at its and and crawled out of the IS-7
‘[Should I-]’
¤ [Return to the base, yes. If you have severe trust issues you can always hide behind a tree or something, not that it will do you much good]
‘[Understood, sergeant. But please be cautious]’

Natalya nods, since that last bit was actually genuine worry and not the driver being a whimp.

Against what she really wanted, she lit another cigarette. Her lighter slams close with a satisfying click. It was an American made one that she found in Berlin. How did it get there? Taken from an American soldier by a German one that was one of the capitals last defenders? Taken from an shot down B-17? Bought before the war?

The used to be a name engraved on it but it had been worn of for many years now. Maybe this was all that was left of the man who had it?

She put it back in her inner jacket pocket when she heard an approaching engine. Both guns on her tanks were elevated 15 degrees or so, to not show any harmful intentions.

And just a minute later, the 75 ton bulk of the jagdtiger crawls around a corner and towards Natalya. She was looking down the barrel of a tank built for the purpose of defeating her tank, and was driven by someone who used to be her sworn enemy.

The jagdtiger did have an incredible presence about it. It was big, much bigger than any of the russian tanks and almost 20 tons heavier than the IS-3. It drove slowly towards the two parked heavy tanks. The barrel was still pointing straight ahead, and with the new ammunition the 128 could spit out, and with Lily’s skill it could probably turn any of the soviet vehicles into a smoking wreck. But the barrel slowly rose and pointed sky as Lily probably saw that the same was the case with the two soviet vehicles. The tank hunter slowed to a half 50 or so feet in front of the Natalya, and for a few an escaping moment, the whole world was silent
Until the hatch popped up and Lily arose from the commander’s seat. Contrary to Natalya, whose uniform had been worn out long ago, Lily’s was still intact and looked just as pretty as the day she first took it on. It was a deliberate play from Lilly’s side to sit high in the tank, making sure Natalya had to look up at her

The world was once again quiet for a second

>Hey Natalya
¤ Hello Lily

She crawled out of the hatch, and then descended down to the ground with a hop and a slide down the upper glacis. Well on the ground Lily stood a few inches shorter than her peer. But she was smiling

>Alone?
¤ Just me

Lily looked at the two tanks in front of her, specifically the IS-7

>It’s not often i say this, but i’m impressed. There is only of of those things left, right?
¤ That’s right. First tank to be immune to the Pak 44
>Frontally. And that was with 1945 ammunition. Things change
¤ True. And i find it amusing that you haven't stopped smiling since you stepped out of the tank
>It’s nice to be among friends
¤ You consider me a friend?
>I think i am more like you than any of the people i have to fight together with now
¤ I’m better than neo-nazis? It’s an honor

Lily’s expression gets a more serious tone as she looks straight at Natalya

>I’m honest. I trust you, and i have done so for a while. The evidence should be that i am helping you to do this. But you in a machine surpassing mine
¤ Wait, what was the last thing you said? You mumbled
>Nothing. It was nothing. By the way, do you have my payment?

Natalya reaches down in the pocket of her black leather jacket and tosses a little lump of steel to Lily
¤ Not a cube, i know but it is more than you asked for. Easily big enough to carve out a r-
>Shhhh. I don’t need you putting your nose in my business
¤ Alright, sorry. Shall we get on with it?
>Sure

To Lily's delight, she could drive the IS-7 the last few meters into the warehouse where the procedure would take place. It wasn't nearly as unpleasant as she thought it would be. The controls were hydraulically assisted and not especially heavy at all. The jagdtiger was put aside and parked against the wall, gun facing outwards

>So, you remember how much this sucked when they put you into the tank? 
¤ I couldn't stand up for three days
>it's not going to be that bad, but I'll have your back. Alright? 
¤ not that bad?
> two days? Maybe? I've only done this once before

Lily climbs back on the tank and takes down a sizeable bag. Natalya shudders at the sight of it

>Sorry, this is going to be a long night no matter how i do it

It was a lot of potentially unpleasant tools in the box, first and foremost a welder. Natalya looked properly uncomfortable. Lily offered her a stiff drink and contrary to her usually sober principles, she accepted and gulped down quite a bit

> So… few things. Don’t fall asleep. The first part is going to take… between three and four hours

Natalya groans.

>And when i come back down, don’t-
¤ I won’t. Thank you Lily

Natalya slowly climbs on top of the IS-3, crawls in and slams the hatch shut. Just as she hears Lily faintly turning the welder on outside she turns her phone off, not looking at the screen showing her she has 12 missed calls


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