"A Rocketman Story"
By John Pirillo
"The cardinal sin of any good soldier is to put all his trust in his weaponry. Any weapon can fail, but he can't." -- Words of General Wishtower
"Men, what you see before you is a representation of the Nazi super cooling tower being built in San Francisco." Colonel Brighton told the troops assembled.
Harry and Jet stood behind them, watching as well. They were the team that would be responsible for making the advance as safe as possible, knocking out any power lines, or other obstacles. Most of the time obstacles were as simple as a few lead lined super lasers with automatic targeting cannons that could wipe out a platoon with one swipe. Sometimes more difficult. Ten foot Nazi Sturm Giganten, built like tanks. Living breathing nightmares of Third World War technology pioneered by Hitler's best scientists.
Oh yeah. And in case you were wondering this isn't the world where the Allies won World War Two, but where they lost it.
My name is Harry. In my world I was a Captain, here I am known as Rocketman and sometimes Captain Harry, which I prefer. I don't always remember my last name or much else, when I'm crossing over between the two alternate realities. Sometimes I don't even remember there is an alternate reality. Only that I have a mission to accomplish. As Rocketman.
I fly this rocket suit. On my real earth it's a huge tank of a thing, well, maybe not that huge, but it weights a lot and is tall and cumbersome, and I ride in it. In this world I have a lighter suit that I can strap on like the old movie serials. And it's hellishly fast. Like Superman fast. But without his strength or protection. I can still die, get shot down and generally hurt a lot.
"Captain!" He gestured to me.
I went forward and stood next to him, then used the pointer he handed over to indicate three roads that curved into the cooling tower, all bordered by warehouses and bunkers. "These." I indicated the roads. "These are the way the main carriers and transports enter the cooling tower base structure."
Jet played the devil's advocate. "So how likely am I to just waltz in there and get what I want, say a nice hotdog or a glass of fresh lemonade?"
Everyone broke into laughter. General Wishtower scowled at Jet, who hurriedly began counting fingers, which made the men laugh even more. I quickly went on. "Not likely. The road is hotwired."
The soldiers stopped laughing.
Hotwired meant it was genetically marked and all the Nazis were genetically marked. We were not. We'd get fried hotter than a buttered piece of toast in an oven left on too long if we touched those roads.
Jet slowly put a hand up. "Uh."
"Yes, Jet?"
"Can I bring marshmallows?"
General Wishtower burst into laughter before he could catch himself, then looked to me, trying to hide his face.
"Jet, you can, but they'll do you no good. We're flying in."
"Do I have to?"
Everyone broke into laughter again.
I shook my head, smiling, and then turned to indicate the warehouses. "Interconnected. Each door is hard wired and without the right code will send an electric shock instantly frying anyone who touches it."
"Barbies anyone? Jet asked.
After the laughter died down, I went on. "Al." I indicated a grey haired man standing to the right of us. "Al and Edison have cooked up...pardon the pun...a device that when you wear it, will automatically trigger the codes. Only one small problem."
Jet raised his hand. Everyone tensed for laughter.
"If you don't get past the Zombies it won't make much difference."
Jet squealed. "I hate them things!"
With that the platoon was dismissed and headed off to barracks to prepare for the coming assault.
General Wishtower took me and Jet side to meet with Einstein.
Our combat headquarters was deep in the heart of a Swiss Mountain, only visible if you knew where to look. And no one did, because it was carefully cloaked by electronic devices and other modern war gear. Einstein and Tesla had rigged a kind of stealth cloaking device that kept our entrance and exit well hidden. Even if a Nazi Soldier stumbled upon the entrance he'd only think it was a simple slope with rock and snow. No more.
And if he got too close. Well, there were considerations for that as well. None of them good for the luckless soldier who had made the wrong turn.
"Everything's hanging on you two getting into that tower and jamming up its power."
Jet looked at me. "Long as I don't have to ride the buggy wagon beneath this guy."
I laughed. "Jet, you know you love it."
"Hell no. Last time you dumped me in Lake Lucerne. I almost became a popsicle."
The General looked at Jet.
"It's a stick with frozen juice or water on it."
General Wishtower shook his head. "Your world is so strange."
"Hey, General!" Jet told him quite frankly. "This one sure ain't no bell ranger, that's for sure."
"What's a..." The General started to ask, then shook his head and headed off to join the team in Control. He was overseeing the mission.
Einstein smiled at us. "You two boys sure know how to get his panties in a wad."
We both laughed. I put a hand on Al's right shoulder. "Al, its underwear, not panties. Panties are what women wear."
"Oh." Al said with a blank face.
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As agreed I scouted the cooling tower one more time while Jet and the platoon got into position for the attack. Jet was along because he was handy in figuring out the various death traps the Nazis inevitably laid out for unexpected guests.
And yes, we were a major pain in their black hearted bottoms.
These Nazis were not the ones of your earth, but of another earth. This earth had been won by them when the Allies failed to stop their launching of a deadly barrage of nuclear weapons, which had wiped out very major Western city around the planet. The Nazis, prepared for the strike, had swept into the countries with advanced weaponry that they had kept off the radar in secret bases and moped up most of the resistance.
Some of our military survived. Some in other countries. They got together and created a base in the Alps, and used it to make life miserable for the Nazis.
When I first got here, I was in total shock. The Nazis used civilians like robots, prepping them in some kind of genetic formula that converted them into mindless zombies that would do anything. Some of the Nazis were physically enhanced...the Sturm Giganten, and others...well, I shudder to think of the others.
When the coast seemed clear. No new Nazi movement, only the steady flow of fuel trucks into the basement, I felt we were ready to go. Our goal was to detonate the fuel. It was highly charged radioactive materials that only needed a little tampering and would go boom, taking out the entire facility and probably a few square miles around it as well.
Our scouts had already warned the locals of what might happen. Most of the locals preferred to stay, not believing they were safe anywhere, but the smarter ones beat it. The Nazis had brainwashed the masses so thoroughly, that most had few thoughts of their own anymore.
And we kept an eye on who went in and out of the cooling tower, in case some of the natives thought of giving us up. Not that it didn't happen sometimes. The natives usually were more than happy to take out a few Nazis, but sometimes they were too far gone and like the zombies many became, were better off dead anyway.
"Jet." I spoke into my helmet mike.
"Yeah!" His voice came into my helmet.
I adjusted my flight attitude and saw him and the platoon moving into position.
"Good to go!"
"On it!"
In a matter of moments he and the platoon swept through one warehouse after another, leaving a trail of destruction behind them. We had twenty minutes to mop the place up, because a base was twenty one minutes away. And we didn't want to have to mess with the Sturm Giganten. They were tough cookies to kill. Usually, nothing short of a nuclear blast could stop them...or the direct hit of tank cannon.
I shot ahead, landing on the cooling tower roof. The tower was shaped like a pyramid. Why, I didn't' know, but all the important electronics were stashed up there. I took out my laser pistol and began melting a few circuits.
Then I felt a huge vibration. I turned around and looked up, then up again. A Nazi Sturm Giganten.
"Vas tun sie?" It demanded, knowing already what I had done, since the smoke and flames behind me were pretty obvious.
"Getting out of here." I answered, and then turned to leap from the roof.
Before I got five feet in the air, a hand smashed me down to the roof.
I landed on my stomach. Hard. Knocked the air out of me. I rolled over and gasping for breath saw a second Sturm Giganten. The first joined him. Their faces were thick like a Rhino's, and their lips like huge crevices with jagged teeth. Their nostrils flared like tunnels of doom. Their foreheads were high, sloping to a narrow, almost cone shape. Genetics gone wild. They were incredibly smart, but locked in when it came to thinking out of the box.
Me box. Them locked in.
The second Sturm Giganten grunted when something knocked into his right foot. He looked down at the strange object and grunted again. He reached for it. Bad move. Boom! He and his companion were blasted off the roof. The fall might not kill them, but it got them out of my hair. I pushed to my feet, still weak from the blow and leaped from the roof, firing up the rocket suit. I felt it drag a moment, and then push me forward.
I angled downwards; saw Jet and what was left of his platoon winging it swiftly back the way they had come, firing ahead of them to break the electrified road ahead of them.
The two Sturm Giganten who had fallen came around the side of the tower and rushed them. My cue.
Neither one was aware of me until I swept towards them at eye level. Their eyes narrowed in anger and hatred. "Bye bye." I said, and then let them have it with both barrels of my arm rockets. The two giants hurtled backwards, slammed from their feet.
It gave me and Jet and the men enough time to reach shelter, when the cooling tower went big-time.
We peeked out to look as a mushroom cloud hurtled into the sky, spreading wings of destruction, doom and gloom. We were ten miles away. Even from there the heat was tremendous.
"Damn!" Jet said angrily.
"What's wrong?"
"I forgot to bring the marshmallows."
The soldiers about us broke into laughter and I did too.
War is hell, but a little laughter goes a long way to making it less so. Even if it was at the expense of those monsters who thought they were better than everyone else.
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