Echoes

Moscow, Red Bloc

Sophia's teeth chattered slightly in her sleep, even though it was unseasonably warm for early Fall in the Bloc. Her mind had wondered into a memory from before her commission. "Sophie, come, come!" she heard from somewhere behind her. Slowly, the dust and smoke cleared enough to see her father beckoning her towards him. She took a breath, and seated her comrade's cap atop her closely cut hair. He peaked over a chunk of collapsed concrete, and gave her the okay sign.

Quietly, she chambered the single round she had into her old M44 Carbine and crouched low as she crossed the street. The bombardment a mere two blocks down was absolutely devastating, and the T-34 tanks were scrambling to get away from the German artillery. She stepped over a group of 20 or so skeletons in tattered Soviet uniforms; victims of some ancient machine gun battle. She was 18 years old, and a hardened veteran to such things.

She crouched beside her father, unchambered her round, and handed him the rifle. He grinned widely at her as he took the precious firearm. His own Mosin had finally fallen apart from the now 15 year long war. He retrieved the full ammo clip from his pocket, loaded 5 fresh ones for her, and handed the rifle back. The torn rags they wore made them almost invisible amongst the blackened rubble.

"The tanks won't hold. They'll be coming." he said. She kissed her 6th bullet, the one she'd use to blow her brains out if they captured her, and put it in her breast pocket. Her father looked up into the cloudy sky, the strain causing him to cough from his cancerous lungs. He spat the blood out onto the cold pavement, cursing the winter for taking so long to get here.

"Have they broken through here before?" she asked. Her mind drifted back to her basic training course, all 5 days of it. Her drill instructor showed her just what the Stadtis would do to her athletic, pale body if she were to be captured. The other men drove the lesson home every night. Some of the girls welcomed the treatment.

After all, a baby in the belly meant they wouldn't have to go to the front; but not Sophia. She endured their foul breath as she was fucked over and over on her thin sleeping mattress, the whip marks from the drill instructor all over her body screaming in hot agony, praying to God they were empty from using the other girls so she could fight.

Her father chuckled. "Of course they have. We've held and lost every inch of this city a thousand times. They drive us back in the Summer, we take it back in the Winter. They push on Moscow, we push on Berlinstadt. We fight in this rubble at the Premiere's insistance. He'll never see Stalingrad fall, not even the Crater!" Get ready, Sophie. They are coming..."

A knock on her door shocked her awake. "Comrade Commissar! The Commander requests your attention!" came from the hallway on a quivering, tired female voice. Sophia sat up in bed, took a deep breath, and stood. She couldn't be a frightened young woman anymore. She had to be brave. She quickly donned her coat, boots, and hat and opened the door to see a lovely young brunette with tired eyes greet her.

She followed the girl down the hallway and up the stairs until they were once again above ground. The Commander was waiting. He saluted, and fell silently into step with each other as they approached his armored car. The girl opened it for them, saluting as they slid inside. "take us to the Square." he said.

Sophia let out a sigh. No doubt there would be a photographer there. Undoubtedly someone had heard of her little tank hunting battle and wanted to use it as propaganda. The Premiere would shake her hand and make some sly comment about how he was going to properly "reward" her. She looked out of the narrow slit in the window armor and wondered how long his schriveled cock would stay hard this time.

To her surprise, they weren't headed toward the Kremlin, but rather to the Intelligence office. And not the one thought of as the KGB headquarters, the REAL one. A sudden panic struck her. Had they been spying on her when she read the memo? Did they see her hesitation? Had the bastards somehow read her mind? She shook the thought from her head. It was just her Indoctrination talking. While thorough, she of all people knew the myth of the vast, sinister Intelligence Division was mostly propaganda.

The car pulled up next to a non-descript two story brick building with a simple faded sign that said "Sanitation Dept" above the door along with a loading dock around the side. The front door had been boarded up long ago, and the alley they passed through appeared to have a number of staggering drunks in various states of unshaven madness. She knew better. Each one of them hid a PPSH under their tattered trench coats, and had killed scores of men, women, and most likely children for the Kremlin. She wondered again if she was walking towards her doom...