Ragnarok (Twilight of the Gods Book 3)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Nuclear weapons were used,” Katherine said. There was no point in trying to conceal it, not from a girl as smart as Gudrun. Besides, the only way she could ever be rescued would be through a direct assault on the Reichstag itself. The war would be lost. “Your offensive failed.”

  Gudrun let out a bitter sound, a cross between a gasp and a sob. She’d probably known people who would have fought on the front lines, Katherine thought. Her older brother was a soldier, according to her file; her younger brother was pushing the edge of military age. He might have been enlisted already, if the rebels were desperate for manpower. Somehow, she found it hard to imagine Gudrun using her position to ensure that her relatives were sent to safety while others stood and fought.

  “I don’t know what will happen,” Katherine added. “But we should be safe down here.”

  She sighed as she helped Gudrun to her feet. The bunker under the Germanica Reichstag was heavily protected, easily the most secure place in the city. If the city was hit with atomic weapons, she’d been assured, the bunker would be perfectly safe. She had her doubts - there was no such thing as perfect safety, in her experience - but she had a great deal of faith in the Reich’s engineers. If Germanica was nuked, Karl Holliston and his government would survive to carry on the fight.

  And the hell of it, she conceded reluctantly, was that she was no longer sure if that was a good thing.

  Gudrun leaned against her, her body frail. It was easy to forget that she was only three or so years younger that Katherine herself, that she’d done well in the BDM. Two weeks of captivity, fed starvation rations and drugged repeatedly, had done her no favours. Doctor Muller might have been told he couldn't feed Gudrun some of his more ... interesting ... concoctions, but what he had slipped her had been more than bad enough. Katherine would have been surprised if Gudrun had a clear grip on anything.

  “You’re being nice to me,” Gudrun managed. “Are you planning to ask me questions too?”

  “I do not have orders to ask you questions,” Katherine said, truthfully. She’d heard of using two interrogators - one nice, one nasty - to break down a suspect, but the Reich had rarely considered it a worthwhile technique. “I’m going to make sure you get some proper medical attention.”

  Gudrun flinched. Too late, Katherine remembered what Gudrun’s last medical exam had been like. Doctor Muller and his goons had poked and prodded every last orifice, doing everything in their power to make it clear that Gudrun was no longer in control of her own body. And while Gudrun had put up a brave show, it was clear that she was coming to the end of her tether. The SS got everyone in the end, eventually.

  They do, a voice said at the back of her mind. And you have to decide how you feel about that.

  She half-carried Gudrun down the corridor and into the infirmary. The doctor - she didn’t know his name or reputation - looked surprised to see them, but took Gudrun and guided her to a bed. Katherine suspected that Gudrun would have preferred a female doctor, yet there were none to be found in the Reichstag. Even the nurses were male. One might have to be called in from the city above, if necessary.

  A stern-faced stormtrooper appeared at the door. “Herr Hauptsturmfuehrer,” he said, quietly ignoring Katherine’s obvious femininity. “The Fuhrer demands your immediate presence. I am to escort you to him.”

  Katherine nodded. Doctor Muller had definitely gone whining to the Fuhrer. But she was only following orders, Holliston’s orders. She had a feeling the doctor was in for a nasty surprise.

  “One moment,” she said.

  She looked at the doctor. “Take very good care of her,” she ordered, nodding to Gudrun. “If there is any cause for complaint afterwards, you will suffer for it.”

  “Jawohl,” the doctor said.

  Katherine eyed him for a long moment - a doctor who worked in an interrogation chamber would have questionable morals, if nothing else - and then followed the stormtrooper through the door. Gudrun would be safe, for the moment ...

  ... But with nuclear weapons being launched, Katherine had no idea how long that would last.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Germanica (Moscow), Germany East

  4 November 1985

  “The reports from the front make it clear,” Karl said, “that the enemy offensive has been stopped.”

  He looked at Ruengeler. “This is correct?”

  “Yes, Mein Fuhrer,” Ruengeler said. His face was pale, his hands sweaty. “The offensive has been stopped.”

  “Exactly,” Karl said. He looked at the assembled Gauleiters. “Victory is within our grasp.”

  The Gauleiters didn't look impressed, but none of them seemed willing to challenge him openly. Karl wasn't surprised. None of them would have the nerve to challenge him unless the war went badly - and the nuclear blasts had stopped the offensive in its tracks. That would change, he was sure, but for the moment they would be quiet. It would give him time to move to the next stage of his plan.

  Gauleiter Emil Forster cleared his throat. “Our forces were far too close to the blasts,” he said, smoothly. “Did they escape the worst of the fallout?”

  “Yes,” Karl said, flatly. “Our defence lines are currently being rebuilt east of Warsaw. The onset of winter will make it harder for the enemy to resume the offensive before spring.”

  Forster looked unconvinced. Karl scowled, inwardly. He’d known that Forster would be trouble, but without the support of his fellows there was nothing the older man could do to unseat his Fuhrer. And besides, Karl still controlled most of the military and all of the atomic bombs.

  “But that raises another question,” Forster said. “What of Warsaw itself?”

  Karl allowed his face to darken. “The city was partly evacuated before the enemy offensive began,” he said. It was true enough, but only a small fraction of the population had been relocated. “The remainder of the population were warned to take cover once the fighting actually began.”

  “But they were still too close to the blasts,” Forster said. “How many of our citizens were killed or wounded - or blinded - by the bombs? And how many have been sentenced to death by radiation poisoning?”

  “There are sacrifices that must be made for the greater good,” Karl said. He had no idea how many civilians had been killed, but it hardly mattered. All that really mattered was preserving Germany East. “The population of Warsaw is a small price to pay for the salvation of the Third Reich.”

  “Undoubtedly,” Gauleiter Hugo Jury said. “It is a honour to die for the Greater German Reich!”

  “Those men and women were not soldiers,” Forster said, coldly. “They were civilians.”

  He looked around the room, his eyes flickering from face to face. “The damage to the city is bad enough,” he said. “Rebuilding it is beyond our resources. But the long-term damage to the Volk may be worse.”

  Karl allowed himself a moment of anger. Forster was smart, too smart - and too independent-minded. Jury could be counted upon to support the Reich and Innsbruck was too weak to oppose anyone, but Forster was dangerous. And yet ...

  “They will retaliate,” Innsbruck said. “They will use nuclear weapons on our territory.”

  “They would not dare,” Jury hissed. “They know we will retaliate ...”

  “And then what?” Forster asked. “Do we keep exchanging nukes until the entire Reich is destroyed?”

  “No,” Karl said. Germany East didn't have enough working bombs to destroy Germany Prime, not yet. The engineers were working as fast as they could to unlock the remaining warheads, but it was slow going. “I do not believe they would have the nerve to strike one of our cities.”

  “Particularly as Warsaw is one of our cities,” Forster said, dryly.

  Karl ignored him. “We will take advantage of this pause in the storm to demand their surrender,” he said. “I doubt they have the willingness to continue their advance in the face of nuclear attack.”

  “And General Winter,” Jury added.

  “
Quite,” Karl said. He looked up. “We beat an offensive the enemy threw together in a hurry. It will take them months to ready another offensive - months we can use to prepare our own forces for our return to Berlin, months we can use to further subvert their positions by reminding their people of how good life was before the rebellion. And then we will re-establish the Third Reich and purge the subversives who nearly brought us to our knees.”

  He smiled, careful to keep his real emotions hidden. Using the atomic bombs had been a calculated risk - and, so far, it seemed to have paid off - but he knew it would be a long time before his forces could begin the second advance on Berlin. Who knew what would happen in the five or six months it would take to ready the offensive?

  “Perhaps it would be better to come to terms with them,” Forster said. “Split the Reich into two.”

  Karl blinked in surprise. “You would allow the rebels to go unpunished? You would allow the Reich to fragment?”

  Forster stared back at him evenly. “Your original offensive assumed that Germany Prime could be recaptured in a quick campaign,” he said. “You believed that we could go on the offensive and win before the enemy had a chance to recover from the damage to its command network and mobilise the resources at its command. That offensive failed - the enemy not only failed to submit, but also managed to move enough forces eastward to allow a counteroffensive of their own.”

  “Which has now failed,” Karl snapped. “The enemy is gravely weakened.”

  “Which has failed,” Forster agreed. “But our own forces are weakened too.”

  He took a breath. “Do we want Germany Prime?

  “Mein Fuhrer, Germany Prime has been infected with liberalism for decades,” he continued. “Men and women have forgotten their roles in life; parents are neglectful of their children, children are disrespectful to their parents. The influx of American products has weakened the heart and soul of the Reich. Do we really want to win the war and spend years purging every last trace of weakness from the body politic?”

  Karl took a moment to compose his reply. Forster’s argument was completely wrong-headed, yet it would have a certain resonance in Germany East. Contempt for the weaklings of the west would eventually - inevitably - lead to people asking why they needed to regain control over Germany Prime. And most of the obvious counter-arguments were not ones that would impress the Easterners ...

  “Regardless of any other concerns,” he said finally, “the border between east and west is too long to be patrolled and sealed. We would need to fear sedition from the west, even if we washed our hands of them ...”

  “But why?” Forster added. “What is the appeal of blue jeans and hip-hop music to boys and girls raised in Germany East?”

  He snorted, rudely. “Let them sink into degeneration, Mein Fuhrer,” he said. “Let them wallow in a cauldron of miscegenation and depravity. Let them watch their American videos and slake their lusts on one another like the animals they are. Our purity will allow us to rise above them, setting an example that they will inevitably come to emulate. We will welcome them back to us when the time is right - and they will come willingly.”

  Karl silently promised himself that he’d have Forster killed, the moment he had an opportunity to strike without triggering a civil war. The man was right, damn him; Germany East had built-in protections against subversion that Germany Prime had long-since lost. There was a ... vigour to life in the east, an awareness of community - and danger - that had started to decay in Germany Prime. And a respect for one’s elders that ensured that rebellion was impossible. That too had been lost in Germany Prime.

  “They are our fellow Germans,” he said, finally. “We cannot allow them to sink into depravity without making some attempt to stop it.”

  Forster snorted. “And fighting a war that will hand the Americans mastery of the world?”

  “They do not have the will to power,” Jury sneered. “Let them think us weakened, if they wish. We will teach them different soon enough.”

  “Of course,” Karl said. He smiled, rather darkly. “They will not be ready for us when we rise from the ashes.”

  “Let us hope so,” Forster said. “We may find that we have paid too great a price to reunify the Reich.”

  ***

  Katherine wasn't too surprised to discover that the regular complement of guards around the Fuhrer’s office and living quarters had been doubled overnight. Karl Holliston had always been a paranoid man and, with a civil war underway, had excellent reason to be worried about his own safety. She handed her pistol over to the guards at the checkpoint without protest, then submitted to a surprisingly professional pat-down before they allowed her into the waiting room. The guards, it seemed, were more focused on security than exploiting their authority.

  And that makes them better than the men downstairs, she thought, grimly. They wouldn't hesitate to grope anyone who entered their domain.

  The thought made her feel sick. She hoped that Gudrun would be safe - she doubted Doctor Muller would dare return to torment his prisoner - but she knew it wouldn't last. Safe? What safety was there below the Reichstag? Gudrun could be taken out of her cell and shot - or worse - at any moment and she knew it. And, despite her determination, she was on the verge of breaking completely. Katherine had no trouble reading her. She was about to snap.

  She looked up as three men walked through the room. Gauleiter Hugo Jury looked proud as he strode through the outer door; Gauleiter Emil Forster and Gauleiter Staff Innsbruck both looked oddly worried. Indeed, they were standing so close together that she would have unhesitatingly declared them to be lovers, if one of them happened to be female. Clearly, they were planning something. Perhaps they were intent on remaining united in the face of the Fuhrer ...

  “You may enter,” Marie said.

  Katherine nodded, rose and walked through the inner door. She hadn't seen the Fuhrer for several days and she was shocked by the change in him. He looked as if he hadn't slept for several days, his unshaven face covered in dark stubble. And his blonde hair was shading to grey ... she wondered, suddenly, if he’d been dying his hair for the last few years. Blonde hair was considered a mark of good breeding, even though neither Hitler nor Himmler had been blonde. She’d heard that the vast majority of girls in Germany Prime dyed their hair every few days, just to make sure they appeared blonde.

  Idiots, she thought. There are far more important things in life than hair colour.

  “Mein Fuhrer,” she said, snapping out a perfect salute. “Heil Holliston!”

  “Katherine,” Holliston said. He sounded oddly relieved to see her, even though she thought she was in trouble. Doctor Muller had probably told the Fuhrer that Katherine had beaten him to death. “It is good to see you.”

  Katherine frowned, inwardly. Holliston sounded ... wrong. Not lecherous, not fearful ... she couldn't put her finger on it. But something was wrong. She looked down at his desk and had to fight to keep her face impassive when she saw the photographs. Scorched buildings, shattered lives ... the men in the photographs looked as though they’d been through hell. And perhaps they had ...

  “Thank you, Mein Fuhrer,” she said.

  It struck her, suddenly, that Holliston had good reason to be paranoid. Not everyone would approve of his decision to use nuclear weapons. If a protest movement had started - and eventually overthrown the government in Berlin - because the government had covered up the deaths of German soldiers, who knew what would happen after word of Warsaw started to spread freely. Rumours grew in the telling ...

  ... And not everyone would believe that the rebels had been the ones who’d detonated the warheads.

  “Doctor Muller whines that you beat him up,” Holliston said. A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. “Is that actually true?”

  “I threw him out of the room,” Katherine said, briskly. “He was on the verge of raping your ... special ... prisoner.”

  Holliston lifted an eyebrow. “And is that a bad thing?”


  “You gave me orders to ensure that Gudrun suffered no long-term harm,” Katherine said, firmly. “I submit to you, Mein Fuhrer, that the beating he gave her was quite bad enough. It will be days, at best, before her face clears. Raping her would only push her completely over the edge.”

  She paused for a long moment before pushing onwards. “I don’t believe that interrogating her offers anything of value,” she added. “She simply doesn't know anything significant, not now.”

  “We had her in our hands, only a couple of months ago,” Holliston said. His tone was so ... distracted that Katherine honestly wasn't sure if he’d heard a word she’d said. “If we’d known who she was at the time ... we could have stopped everything.”

  “Yes, Mein Fuhrer,” Katherine said.

  Holliston’s voice was beginning to worry her. He sounded as though he’d lost track of reality, as if he were refighting battles that were over and done with rather than rolling with the blows and looking to the future. She studied the Fuhrer as carefully as she could, drawing on all her training to ensure he didn't notice her scrutiny. She was no honey trapper, no woman trained in all the arts of seduction, but she knew enough to keep her interest concealed. And she also knew what to look for.