They could have her on a plane to Germanica by now, he thought. And then they’ll start breaking her, piece by piece.
But Kurt was right. It wasn’t going to be easy. Slipping across the border – either on foot or in the air – was one thing, but moving from state to state within Germany East would be nearly impossible without the right papers. And it was unlikely he could get his hands on the right papers, after the RHSA burned to the ground. Forging them would be very risky…
“I see no alternative,” he said. Getting to Germanica without being caught would be tricky, but he was a native of Germany East. He did know how to get around. “Do you have any options yourself?”
Kurt scowled, but shook his head bitterly.
He loves his sister, Horst thought. It wasn’t entirely a surprise, but it was uncommon – at least in Germany East. Brothers stayed with the family, sisters went off to join other families. And yet, that might not even happen in Germany Prime. People didn’t move away from the settlement when they married. He cares about her.
“Come with me,” he said.
He regretted the words as soon as he said them. Tolerating Kurt for Gudrun’s sake would have been easy – Kurt had played his own role in starting the uprising – but asking Kurt to accompany him was different. It was stupid. Kurt was a Heer infantryman, not an SS operative or a commando. And yet, he knew he couldn’t withdraw the offer. It was too late.
“You’re going to be needed on the front,” his father-in-law said. “Kurt…”
“I will,” Kurt said, addressing Horst. “There’s no shortage of qualified officers who can take my place.”
“We’ll see what your superiors say,” his father grunted. “Horst, when do you plan to leave?”
Horst frowned. “I’m not sure,” he said. Leaving now would give him a better chance to slip through the enemy lines – the Waffen-SS were still retreating in confusion – but waiting a week would let him see just what was developing on the ground. Maybe, just maybe, some kindly soul would assassinate Karl Holliston and negotiate a truce. “At least a day or two from now.”
Kurt sneered. “You don’t want to leave at once?”
“I do,” Horst said, tiredly. His patience snapped. “I’m exhausted, hungry and not in the best of states. I need a good night’s sleep and some food before I can even consider departing.”
He forced himself to control his voice. “And if you don’t want to get yourself killed if you come with me,” he added, “I suggest you do the same yourself!”
Turning on his heel, no longer caring if Kurt put a bullet in it, he strode through the door and down the corridor towards the quarters he’d shared with Gudrun. It felt like it had been years since he’d last stepped into them; he closed the door behind him and then sagged against the wall. There were signs of her presence everywhere, from the nightgown her mother had given her for the wedding night to the notebook she’d been writing in… he slumped to the ground, cursing himself under his breath. She’d wanted him to treat her as an equal, but it had led right to her capture…
They won’t kill her at once, he told himself, firmly. There’s still time.
Sure, his own thoughts answered. And what they’ll do to her before they kill her will break her, once and for all.
He rose, somehow, and stumbled towards the bed. Sleep wouldn’t come easy, even though he needed it desperately. Tomorrow… he would have to plan the most dangerous mission of his career, knowing that failure would mean certain death for both of them…
…And, perhaps, the end of the war itself.
“The reports are quite clear,” Voss said. “They’re retreating.”
“Good,” Volker said. “Can we chase them all the way back to Germanica?”
“No,” Voss said. “We’re going to have to lay the groundwork for taking the war into Germany East. As it is, the last set of orbital images suggests that the SS bastards are digging into their former defence lines near Warsaw. Digging them out is going to be difficult.”
“Giving them plenty of time to muster their resources for the final battle,” Volker said.
“Yes,” Voss agreed. “But there are limits to how many reservists they can pull off the settlements.”
Volker nodded in agreement. Security in Germany East had to be maintained – or the Russian insurgents would attack the settlements and destroy them. He had no way to know for sure, but he would have bet good money that sending so many reservists westwards had weakened the defences badly enough to allow an upswing in attacks. And sending CAS aircraft westwards hadn’t helped either, he was sure. The SS’s air power had often made the difference between losing a settlement or slaughtering the attackers.
He sighed. And if there were a series of insurgent attacks, he asked himself, what should they do?
“A problem for another day,” he mused.
Voss frowned. “Herr Chancellor?”
“Nothing,” Volker said.
He looked though the window, down at the streets. An impromptu party was already underway, even though large parts of the city were in ruins and thousands of lives – military and civilian – had been lost. He wondered, bitterly, just what would happen afterwards, when the population realised that winter was coming and food – and everything else – was going to run short. Maybe they could bring in help from the west, but would it be enough?
“If we could get him to agree to a truce,” he said, “we could end the war for good.”
“Holliston won’t agree to a truce,” Voss predicted. “He cares nothing for anything, apart from his supremacy.”
And that, Volker suspected, was all too true.
Gudrun fought her way to wakefulness through a haze of pain. Her head was throbbing, her arms and legs felt bruised and weak… as if she’d been beaten savagely, part of her mind noted. Had she been beaten? Her memories were odd, flashes and impressions rather than anything solid; the last thing she recalled was kissing Horst before they went down to the car…
She swallowed, hard, as the memories flashed through her mind. They’d been ambushed, she’d been hit… and now she was a prisoner.
“I know you’re awake,” a voice said. It was so atonal that Gudrun wasn’t sure if it was male or female. “You may as well open your eyes.”
Gudrun hesitated, then did as she was told. She was lying on a makeshift bed – really, nothing more than a handful of blankets – in a small metal room. The room was shaking, a faint thrumming noise echoing through the walls. In her dazed state, it took her a moment to realise that she was actually in the back of a van. She wasn’t just a prisoner, she was being taken somewhere…
She sat upright, despite the pain, and looked down at herself. Someone had removed her shirt and trousers, leaving her in her underwear; there were unpleasant-looking red marks on her wrists, reminding her of the time she’d been handcuffed and arrested during the first real protest. And yet, she wasn’t cuffed now… she swung her legs over the side of the bed, only to fall backwards when her head started to spin. Her legs felt far too wobbly to be real.
“I really would stay lying down,” the voice said. “You were drugged and it hasn’t quite worked its way out of your system.”
Gudrun twisted her head, looking for the speaker. A man – no, she realised dully, a woman – was sitting next to her, wearing a rumpled uniform. There was something odd about her, something that nagged at the back of her mind. And yet, no matter how she tried, she couldn’t place it.