Anon-Ostan

“Venus is in the wrong position. Odd.” Those were the first words the Wessi, Leutnaut Jan Goldkreuz, had spoken since I'd picked him up early this morning from his base. Since the border opening back in 89, our governments had arranged these little get togethers between our respective militaries. Though unification was far from anybody's mind, everyone knew that the Germanies would still have to work together in this strange new world. “Also strange... Hey, what time you got? Mine's stopped at twenty eight past five.” I looked down at my wrist, a Russian piece adorning it. “I have the same. 0528. What is strange about that?”
“Been like that for a few minutes now. That's what's strange. Both our watchers, frozen in the same instant.” I only shrugged in response and continued down the forestry road for a minute longer before I heard a yelp from Leutnaut Jan.


“Who are you?” he cried out, as he reached for his clockwork rifle, hand fumbling around in the air instead. I pulled over, turned around, and reached for my Makarov. I was met with two surprises simultaneously; my pistol was missing from its holster, and the UAZ now carried five more occupants, all women of various ages. Starting behind me, a woman of about 20 with lightly tanned skin, green eyes, brown hair. On her lap sat a girl maybe a bit older than half her age with brown hair leaning towards darker red also with green eyes but with pale skin. Next to her was a very tall woman, maybe late 20s, also with pale skin, but with very dark blue, almost black eyes, and dark black hair. These three would be normal, were it not for the extra set of cat ears attached to their heads, covered in fur matching their hair. The two women behind me wore UTV, though the old gray berets sat upon their heads, rather than the visored cap I had on. The woman in the middle wore a Russian Afghanka underneath a KLMK smock, cat ears poking out around a Panama hat. On Jan's side sat a woman with hair almost the color of polished yellow brass, eyes albino red, and pale skin. Her only other distinctive feature was her ears, unnaturally pointy and very long, almost as if a fairy tail elf had walked straight out of the story book pages. In her lap sat another child of about ten, with black hair, green eyes, and pale skin, the only one without any distinctive features. They wore the same uniform as Jan, printed with a pattern called flecktarn, a new Bundeswehr uniform that had started showing up with Grenztruppen. Atop their heads were red berets with the same pioneer badge that adorned Jan's beret.


“Venus is in the wrong position. Odd.” Those were the first words the Wessi, Leutnaut Jan Goldkreuz, had spoken since I'd picked him up early this morning from his base. Since the border opening back in 89, our governments had arranged these little get togethers between our respective militaries. Though unification was far from anybody's mind, everyone knew that the Germanies would still have to work together in this strange new world. “Also strange... Hey, what time you got? Mine's stopped at twenty eight past five.”

I looked down at my wrist, a Russian piece adorning it. “I have the same. 0528. What is strange about that?”

“Been like that for a few minutes now. That's what's strange. Both our watchers, frozen in the same instant.” I only shrugged in response and continued down the forestry road for a minute longer before I heard a yelp from Leutnaut Jan. “Who are you?” he cried out, as he reached for his clockwork rifle, hand fumbling around in the air instead. I pulled over, turned around, and reached for my Makarov. I was met with two surprises simultaneously; my pistol was missing from its holster, and the UAZ now carried five more occupants, all women of various ages. I stared dumbly for a few moments, taking in the situation. It wasn't every day you gained new passengers from nowhere. Slowly, I gained enough comprehension to take in and describe our new passengers.

Behind me sat a woman of about 20 with lightly tanned skin, green eyes, brown hair. On her lap sat a girl approximately half her age with brown hair leaning towards darker red also with green eyes but with pale skin. Next to her was a very tall woman, perhaps late 20s, also with pale skin, but with very dark blue, almost black eyes, and dark black hair. These three would be normal, every day women, were it not for the extra set of cat ears attached to their heads, bearing fur the same color as their hair. The two women behind me wore UTV, though with the old gray berets atop their heads, rather than the visored cloth cap I had on. The woman in the middle wore a Russian Afghanka underneath a KLMK smock, cat ears poking out around a Panama hat. On Jan's side sat a woman with hair almost the color of polished yellow brass, eyes albino red, and pale skin. Her only other distinctive feature was her ears, unnaturally pointy and very long, almost as if a fairy tail elf had walked straight out of the story book pages. In her lap sat another child of about ten, with black hair, green eyes, and pale skin, the only one without any distinctive features. They wore the same uniform as Jan, printed with a pattern called flecktarn. It had started appearing with Bundeswehr units around the same time as the G-11s. Atop their heads were red berets with the same pioneer badge that adorned Jan's.

We all sat in silence for an uncomfortably long time, stating awkwardly at each other, until I finally managed to get out a few words. “Who are you?” Nearly instantly, I got inundated by four voices, all trying to be heard over each other, all trying to explain their origin, or at least that's what I hoped they were attempting. It was impossible to make anything out, especially with four different regional accents trying to win out over each other. Before I could get them to calm down, the woman in the middle yelled out in Russian, “Shut the fuck up! I'll explain to the Kraut!” The striched women stared at the Russian in shock; the flecked ones just stared in confusion.

“We are your firearms. At least we were until a few minutes ago. Something happened, and now we're here. I'm your KPV. The older one in rain camo is your MPi-KMS; the little one is your Makarov. The young imperialist was a P1, and I don't know what the elf bitch was.” I absentmindedly nodded; it was about all I could do at the moment. It was true that our weapons had disappeared, but it hurt my brain to try and accept that these women were until a few minutes ago nothing more than steel and Bakelite and whatever materials went into that Wessi space gun.

“What did she say?” Jan asked a moment later, breaking me out of my trance like state. That was right; the Wessi couldn't speak Russian. I'd have to act as translator. That was fine. Translating had been a major part of my job since my commissioning. “She claims that our new passengers were formerly our weapons, brought to life by some strange magic.”

“Like some sort of magic gun soul or something?”

“If the woman in the middle is to be believed, then yes. Her explanation does neatly explain both why our weapons disappeared and why we have gained these new passengers. The KPV, the Russian in the middle assigned a firearm to each one of them, except the elf woman. She couldn't identify the elf.”

“Reckon she'd be my G-11, then.” Jan turned back to the passengers, and asked, “You got real names, or are we just meant to call you G-11 and P1 and such?”

Once again, four women tried answering at the same time. Jan put up his hands and gestured for quiet. “Peace, please. One at a time. Can't understand you all if you all speak at the same time. Uh... Let's see... G-11, you first.” The chatter finally quieted down after a few moments, and the G-11 finally managed to speak, her words glided out of her mouth like clockwork, as opposed to the harsh, heavy hitting voice of the KPV woman.

“I'm Brunhilde, and this cute little pistol in my lap is Erika. I don't know those cat girls over there.” The MPi-KMS promptly took over, with a sharp and concise tone.

“I'm Marlene. The girl is Tatiana. To my left is Katyusha. Naturally, we know who you two are.”