Harry Kirk never imagined the World
could be so small...
For a farmboy from Iowa, it seemed an awful long way home, from a sub-orbital altitude of ten and a half miles. The fact that he was currently racing across the dotted expanse of the Dutch East-Indies added signifigantly to Harry's homesickness. Of course, the Fw290 closing hard on his tail, rail-cannons pumping shells at his SP-15D, went some way to reducing his meloncholy...
Harry swiftly adjusted his O2 mix to the rich setting, and cramped into a g-force defeating 'squat' as the bright blue nose of his crate swung up and over, as reaction thrusters swung the fighter around its own length, and the RDF finally began to buzz a warning. Harry's teeth clenched angrily as he saw the Nazi spaceplane roll 'down' from above and into his gyro-correcting gunsight. He was furious; when, Goddammit, would the sonsabitches at North American get that RDF detecto-alarm to work right!?
His gauntleted hand closed over the bright red 'brakelever' and the SP-15D shivered down its spaceframe as all four accelerators silently spun a full five-dozen rounds towards the Fw290. Of the 60 shells, just two found their target; one passed through the trailing edge of the 'flying arrowhead's portside elevator, but the second buried itself in the front of the German's atomic reactor shielding. Within moments, the Focke-Wulf was melting apart, sending Harry's RDF into an attack of the screaming bejeebers as the local radiation count hit the top of the dial.
Harry watched the German, tumbling away, still glowing. He fought down conflicting feelings of elation, terror, and, he supposed, regret. He shook his head, tried to clear it, and frowned at the televisor.
Buzz. "Candlesticks two and three from one, Where are you goons? That Eff-Dubbya nearly vacced me!" Buzz.
Buzz. "Uh, Candlestick three here - two's bought it, Cap." Buzz.
Harry felt a familiar ache gnaw at the pit of his gut. He swore, very softly, in the hope his dead Mom wouldn't hear.
Buzz. "Copy that, Hank. Nothin' more to do up here. Point your tail to the moon, and let's burn home." Buzz.
Buzz. "Copy that, Captain Kirk!" Buzz.
Welcome to the war that never was...
The year is 1949, but the world is not the place it should be! Welcome to Sternkrieg: 1949, a collection of designs, images and writings centering around the concept that World War Two did not end in 1945, but took an entirely different and dangerous direction, launching humankind into a desperate race for space.
The lights go out on Broadway.
WW2 in 1949? Hey! Didn't you take history!?
For those of you unfamiliar with this 'history that never was' concept, I suggest you take a look at what I consider the best novel on the subject, if only for the humor with which it is written; Harry Turtledove's Guns of the South describes an alternative ending to the American Civil War, based on the premise that white extremists from our own future use a time machine to travel back to the 1860's, and give the Confederacy AK47 assault rifles. Things don't go exactly as planned, however...
Sternkrieg: 1949 is a concept written with a similar concept in mind; someone is messing with the timeline, but the question is- who?
Well, I'm not telling.
Not yet, anyway...
We don't need no steenkin' zombies!
Let me make something very clear to everyone: I have no objections as such to zombies in Alternate Earth - WW2 settings.
Except in this one. If you have come 'Zombie hunting' as it were, let me recommend you to the Incursion page. You will not find any of the living dead in the Sternkrieg setting. If you are a Zombie, let me reassure you that I am not a zombist, its just that I think the suspension of disbelief would be pushing uphill if there were orbital rocket-fighters with pilots moaning "braaaains..." around here. I hope you understand. Or at least, you won't eat me.
to the U.S. Space Force page