Chapter 1 – Operation: Kremlin 

      With a soft exhale a small cloud of mist hangs steady in the frigid, cold air. Sanya stands firm and observant, like a statue overlooking the vast, seemingly endless expanse of the Orussian frontier sprawling out before her. A light wind whistles and blows intermittent snowflakes through her silver hair which waves like a dance against the breeze. It has been many years since she last observed her homeland like this, and the chill against her pale skin surely brings on a sense of homely familiarity.

      This is the deepest into the Orussian interior she has travelled since she, and countless of her fellow country men were forced to flee from the unstoppable advance of the Neuroi invasion. Somewhere out there, far past the distant horizon she knows her family awaits, safe behind the mighty Ural Mountains. For now though she has a duty to perform, for that awaiting family, for her proud nation and for herself. 

      Hanging like a storm cloud between her and the liberation of this vast land lies Hive Leon. Despite being many hundreds of kilometres away its sheer size still dominates the distant horizon, an unmistakable blight hovering over Moscow. Even at this safe distance red flashes of lightning highlight its accursed silhouette against the sky instilling an alien sense of dread. Sanya had felt this many times before, but she has learnt to live with it. 

      In the years following the chaotic flight from her home she has destroyed countless Neuroi, and with the successful operations in Gallia, Romagna and Berlin she can even add several Hives to her list of victories. She’s experienced, a veteran, an ace witch. Even then this final battle to reclaim her native land will be fierce. She has been listening in on the recon reports over the radio; Leon is heavily defended. 

      Perhaps it’s this concentrated focus on Leon which blinds Sanya to a creeping presence sneaking up behind her. With slow, deliberate movements a steady hand slides over Sanya’s own, interlocking their digits into a tight embrace. Sanya doesn’t turn away from Leon, she knows who this is. 

       “Your hands are cold” Eila says in a soft, caring tone, likewise looking forward towards their awaiting foe. Together the pair stands hand in hand atop this grassy, windswept hill, silent despite the organised chaos unfolding behind them. 

      Soldiers of all types go about their myriad of tasks throughout the frantic forward operating base, the metallic slamming of machinery, the roar of thundering tanks and trucks moving into position, the shouts of commanders barely understandable amidst the commotion. The air is thick with the stench of diesel, oil and smoke. Not long ago this was a pleasant, albeit occupied field covered in a beautiful sheet of fresh snow. Now that white carpet lays in mounds, brown and muddy, the ground churned up into an icy sludge. One poor soldier even slips dropping into the horrid mess making quite the humorous sound. There is little time for laughing however; the final assault is drawing near. 

     Somewhere deeper inside this militaristic circus several other members of the renowned 501st Joint Fighter Wing stand in a drab tent with Generals and Commanders around a huge, meticulously detailed map, painstakingly going over their battle plans one last time. Gertrud Barkhorn, ever the serious soldier, reiterates the coming actions sternly, as cold as the outside air itself. 

       “Are we all on the same page!?” she demands, even stirring shock in those who outrank her, who all answer with a confident affirmative before making their leave.   

       “You did fantastic Trude.” smiles Minna as she picks up a small token bearing the Strike Witches famous sigil from the deployment map. 

      “I wish you could join us out there Minna.” Gertrud replies with a hint of sadness to her voice, a stark difference to her booming orders. 

       “You’ve faced plenty of battles without me already. This will be no different.” Minna assures Gertrud while readjusting her comrade’s uniform, brushing a loose hair from the Wing Commander ribbon displayed proudly on her chest. Suddenly ruining this moment of calm the ever boisterous Erica Hartmann, who sits perched on a large crate with a cheeky grin across her face butts in. 

       “Did you just find something wrong with Miss Perfect’s uniform!?” she says laughing. This mockery riles Gertrud something fierce who suppresses her urge to retort with clenched teeth and a shaking fist. It’s only when Erica loudly and deliberately snaps off her slightly frozen chocolate bar in her mouth, emphasising Barkhorns silence like a drum that the disciplined soldier snaps back. 

        “I don’t want to hear that from you! Even today, of all days you show up with boots like that!” the enraged commander yells pointing at Erica’s mud coated black boots. 

       “How can you walk around here and not get muddy? That makes no sense.” Erica responds just as flippantly, clearly not bothered by her ruined footwear. Minna smiles with a quiet chuckle at this display, a playful act she’s seen many times before. 

       “I’m going to miss your little spats.” she giggles before her mood turns quietly serious. “Come back safe, you understand.” On this heartfelt request Erica hops down to join the pair by the map. 

       “Where are we deployed again?” she asks, quite obviously annoying Gertrud further. 

       “Weren’t you listening at all!?” Trude moans as Minna places the round 501st token back onto the giant paper map of Moscow. 

       “You’ll be attacking from here.” Minna says confidently.

      The time has finally arrived. A colossal armada of aircraft descends on Hive Leon. Thousands of bombers fly in wide formations escorted by a cavalcade of various fighters. Far below them the airborne assault passes over a great frontline of armour, tanks, artillery pieces, as many guns as the allied forces could amass. For the assembled members of the 501st nestled inside the striker deployment bay of a Liberion bomber this was a situation they had all experienced before. Despite the shaking turbulence of the aircraft, the rumble of the engines and the ever increasing sound of gunfire and explosions every witch remains calm and ready to conduct the mission ahead. 

       “It’s just like Berlin, isn’t it Yoshika?” shouts Lynette to her friend who lays on her front in the compartment directly below her. 

       “I hate these things! Ugh! My uniform is ruined!” complains Perrine as she squirms about in front of a grinning Lucchini. 

       “You’re wearing different pants today Perrine?” she asks inquisitively, making the prideful Gallian blush bright red in embarrassment. 

       “Where are you looking!? T-They’re warmer than- It’s cold here!” Perrine tries to explain in a panic to the now laughing child. 

       Suddenly the aircraft is rocked by a close explosion, knocking everyone out of their playful mood. With a heavy thud the bomb bay turns a bright red as the drop lights at the front of the plane switch on and the sturdy double doors below the witches scrape open. 

      The whole compartment is blasted by strong winds and intruding snow. The sound is deafening yet everyone steadies themselves as they have so many times before. For Sanya this is the culmination of her military career. This is the day she will free Orussia once and for all from the Neuroi. With narrowed eyes shielding her vision from the onslaught of wind she sees Eila lying across from her, gun poised and ready. It’s far too loud to hear one another shout at this point so neither girl even tries, however they both know just from the look in their eyes that they have each other’s back, that together they will liberate Moscow. 

      With a simple smile they find comfort as the red light switches to a vibrant green and the lowest striker compartments drop open, sending their inhabitants out of the bomb bay and into the raging battle outside. Witch by witch the aircraft sheds its combatants into the fray and with one last glance both Sanya and Eila plummet from their confinement as well. 

      What greets Sanya outside is a truly cataclysmic sight. The city of Moscow lies in shattered ruins, drowned in the corrupting shadow of the gigantic Hive Leon. The flaming wrecks of aircraft shot down by Neuroi drones fall from the sky like meteors, exploding against the ground as a barrage of constant shells pummel the pitch black and glowing red Neuroi defensive structures, towering above the blasted rubble. Despite attacking at mid day the sun is no more, blanketed out by the smoke and an uncountable swarm of Neuroi minions. 

      The shock passes momentarily and with a powerful surge of magic Sanya boosts her striker unit forward into the battle. Her mission is simple - provide precision artillery fire on strategic defensive emplacements using her trusted Fliegerhammer. She is to clear a path through these outer defences for a ground force to place explosives and hopefully destroy Leon for good. 

      That would be easier said than done however, as before her stands the full might of one of the worlds largest Hives. She wouldn’t have to face it alone however as she soon pulls up in formation alongside her wing-mate Eila. 

       “Are you alright Sanya?” Eila asks, knowing that the sight of Moscow in this state would surely disturb her younger partner. 

       “Look at my home… We have to destroy them all.” Sanya replies with solid determination. 

       “I’ll stay with you, whatever happens.” Softly promises Eila before the two witches quickly descend towards the first of the dominating defences. 

      Amidst a fantastic display of crimson beam attacks and fiery explosions Sanya and Eila dodge and weave through the ruined streets of Moscow. For Eila this was no issue as her precognition guides the duo from objective to objective. Sanyas missiles fly true as Eila blasts drone after drone, shattering them into white shards, mixing into the deep snow banks below. 

      Elsewhere across the city another duo of witches, the pair from Karlsland, Erica and Gertrud, engage in rapid, frantic dogfights against all kinds of Neuroi foot soldiers. Not only does Wing Commander Barkhorn need to focus on her own safety, she also has to monitor the 501sts radio communications, relaying traffic between the witches themselves and the commanders behind the lines. 

      Together these two aces rip through wave upon crashing wave of drones, swarming like insects. Acting as mobile anti-air against the Neuroi is a simple mission in theory; however even with their combined strength the Karlsland warriors soon begin finding their opposition’s numbers somewhat overwhelming. 

       “There sure are a lot of them aren’t there Trude?” posits Erica as she quickly swaps out the magazine of her MP-40, dropping the discarded box to the distant ground.

       “Recon said it would be bad but this…” Gertrud says as she examines the barrels of her machine guns, they will need replacing soon. The girl’s attention is suddenly grabbed by a metallic screeching sound, a horrific shriek generated by a new tumbling, twisting swarm of Neuroi advancing on their impromptu resting spot at great speed.

       “Well no time to chat I guess” quips Erica who blasts off towards the hurricane of enemies before her. Dipping up and down, rolling out of the path of an onslaught of lasers Erica nears the huge mass of Neuroi. “Strum!” she shouts playfully as a vicious curtain of condensed air forms around her slender body, spiralling into a whirlwind, ripping the alien formation to shreds and sending many rocketing away to be quickly picked off by Barkhorns blazing guns. 

       All across the vast battlefield below the oppressive clouds of Hive Leon, witches fight with all their strength against a seemingly endless horde of Neuroi. Several fighter wings have amassed to liberate Orussia, the 502 nd , 504 th , 507 th and alongside the many thousands of non witch soldiers assaulting alongside them, a force of well over a million are currently engaged in fighting. Despite these numbers however it seems that little more than a dent is being made in the sturdy defences of Moscow. 

        Beginning to run low on ammunition; Erica Hartmann falls back closer to Commander Barkhorn.

       “I don’t have much left here Trude.” she reports, a look of worry on her face seeing the stress actually beginning to put a crack in the formidable Gertrud Barkhorn. “How’s Sanya doing?” Erica asks. 

       Gertrud checks that the coast is clear as she lets one of her guns rest slack in its sling and goes to press the small radio communicator in her ear. “Flying Officer Litvyak! Sanya, how are you proceeding down there? Report!” Gertrud demands as yet more drones converge.  

      As Sanya and Eila continue to blast through the myriad of Neuroi littering the streets of Moscow, Sanyas green radio antenna forms around her head as she picks up Gertrud’s request for information. 

       “Commander, there’s a lot of resistance! W-We’ve only destroyed half of the targets so far. I’m sorry” Sanya calls back as Eila lays into a spider-like ground Neuroi defending a ruined square. 

       “That’s the situation everywhere it seems. It’s ok. Open frequency, all members of the 501 st fall in on my position over the Kremlin. Enemy forces are too dense; we need to make a stand!” Barkhorn broadcasts over the radio. 

      Sanya is taken aback by this sudden change of plan. The Neuroi sure were numerous but this was to be expected, this was the liberation of Moscow, she couldn’t just fall back from her mission now . 

      “But Commander, we haven't finished yet! The ground forces won’t be able to deploy.” Sanya says before she gets cut off by Gertrud. 

       “That’s an order Flying Officer! I understand but this isn’t the end. Fall back now.” Sanya looks dismayed by this demand, something which hasn’t gone unnoticed by Eila. Returning to her comrade in a position of cover she places her hands on Sanyas shoulders giving her a stern, worried look. 

       “Sanya, we have to go now. The others need us. We can come back later.” She assures the conflicted Orussian. After a brief moment of hesitation Sanya nods her head and the two take off into the still raging sky towards Barkhorns location.  

      Above the collapsed ruins of the once beautiful red palace of the Kremlin the forces of the 501 st assemble while constantly defending against the assaulting Neuroi masses. Laser blasts deflect off magical shields as bullets fly and drones burst into glass like remnants . 

      “Headquarters this is Wing Commander Barkhorn, requesting permission to withdraw once our forces have re-assembled” Gertrude calls into her radio, her guns now discarded with no ammo and broken barrels. From a rising column of black smoke Sanya and Eila fly towards the meeting point and join their squad. 

       “There they are!” calls out Yoshika, happy to see her friends are safe.  

      “Ok everyone’s here. We’re getting out!” Barkhorn informs her subordinates. While most of the other members of the Strike Witches are relieved at this news, for Sanya this is a bitter pill to swallow. Her eyes water as she turns around to see the burning remains of Moscow, her home, far below her still not free, still in Leon’s shadow. 

        “We can’t stay here.” Eila pleads to Sanya. Suddenly Eila herself is overcome with shock, she can see what’s about to happen and goes to quickly take Sanya by the hand.

       From the ruins of Moscow a huge swarm of new Neuroi drones appear, bursting from the rubble, causing the 501 st to scatter in order to avoid getting hit by the rapid assault of beams. As the swarm rages like a storm of locusts around the tired and ill-supplied witches they become ever more separated and in the chaos of the moment Eila, despite all her trying, loses her grip on Sanya who gets lost in the shifting waves of enemy drones. 

       Crying out in a panic, worried for her friend, for the life of the girl she loves, Eila doesn’t see that Sanya has been pushed back to back with Erica, who has also become lost in this black sea. 

      “Sanya!? Is that you!?” she calls out. “Take my hand! We have to find a way out of here!” 

      As soon as Erica takes Sanyas arm however the vast swarm dissipates as quickly as it formed. The pair find themselves carried far off away from the rest of their still scattered wing, confused, disorientated and in a panic. 

       “What happened?” cries Sanya in utter bewilderment. Both her and Erica’s weapons are long gone but if they try they could reach everyone else and evacuate before the swarm returns. Both witches look at one another, give a nod and quickly make a run for it. The shrieking of Neuroi drones becomes louder as they push their striker units to the max. Likewise their friends have spotted the pair rushing back towards them and begin using what little ammunition they have remaining to give covering fire to the retreating girls. 

      The faster they push on, the more distance they make, the more time that passes, second by second the endless swarm rebuilds itself in the distance now behind the fleeing witches. As they get closer Eila breaks towards Sanya drawing shouts of dismay from Commander Barkhorn and the others. What she’s doing is reckless but Eila doesn’t care; she needs to make sure Sanya is safe. To make sure she makes it home. 

       “Sanya!” She calls out with all the might her lungs can muster. Then, suddenly like a flash of lightning, bypassing even Eilas visions of the future both Sanya and Erica disappear, hit by a burning green energy beam fired directly from Hive Leon itself! It was over in a flash. When the light fades only dust remains and the two aces were gone.