And if that is true, a little voice whispered at the back of his head, how come their technology is so much better?
He shook his head, dismissing the thought. If the rebels and traitors won, the Reich would come apart at the seams. He had no illusions about what the Untermenschen would do, if they got a taste of freedom. The French would demand their freedom, then the return of territory taken during the last war… it would be utter madness. What was Germany without discipline, without everyone knowing their place?
And the whole crisis was started, he told himself, by a girl who did not know her place.
And yet… and yet…
He hadn’t looked into her story. He hadn’t considered her very important when he’d been on the front lines and now, when he knew she was important, he didn’t dare try to access the files. But there had been something in Holliston’s reaction that convinced him that she’d been telling the truth. And that meant… what?
If our soldiers are being betrayed, he asked himself, what does that say about us?
He shook his head as he walked into the smaller office and peered down at the maps his subordinates had placed on the table. Warsaw was more than just a city; Warsaw was the communications and transport hub for the entire region. Of course the rebels would want it — and of course Holliston couldn’t just give it up. But to use nuclear weapons? There was very little protective gear in the district. None of the stormtroopers had any protective gear…
…But what could he do about it?
Get them what I can, he told himself. And hope that it would be enough.
He could try to talk the Führer out of it, he supposed, but what could he say that would be convincing? Nothing came to mind, because there wasn’t anything. The planned thrust eastwards — if the Führer’s source was accurate — would either destroy the remaining SS divisions, thus shortening the war, or take a large chunk of Germany East that could be used as a springboard for a spring offensive. Nuclear weapons might be the only way to slow the offensive long enough to rebuild the military…
And there was nothing he could do.
He’d heard rumours, of course, as he’d handed his command over to his second and headed back to Germanica. He’d expected to be turned into a scapegoat for the failure and executed, just to save Karl Holliston from the consequences of his own mistakes. But instead… he was trapped in hell. There was nothing he could do to keep the Führer from using the weapons, nothing he could do to save himself and his family if he crossed Holliston. He was trapped…
…And there was still nothing he could do.
“I’m going to unlock your chains,” Katherine said, as she pushed Gudrun into the cell. “If you do anything stupid, you will regret it.”
Gudrun nodded, feeling a twinge of relief mixed with fear. Horst had tried to teach her some moves, but Katherine was stronger and far faster than Gudrun could ever hope to be. Any resistance would be futile — no, worse than futile. Katherine would use it as an excuse to punish her, to rub her hopelessness in her face. All she could do was wait patiently, take the abuse as best as she could and pray for a chance to escape.
She glanced down at her hands as Katherine undid the cuffs. Nasty purple bruises had formed around her wrists, mocking her. She rubbed at them, cursing the dull ache under her breath. Katherine undid the chains around her feet, then carefully removed the cuffs before Gudrun could think of any way to use them as a weapon. She would have sold her soul for a pistol and a skeleton key.
But getting out of here would still be impossible, she thought, morbidly. Perhaps I should find a way to kill myself.
She looked up at Katherine. “Thank you,” she said. She didn’t want to ask for anything else, but her stomach was rumbling unpleasantly. “Can I have something to eat?”
“Yes,” Katherine said. She sounded displeased about something. “Wait.”
Gudrun sat down on the bed as Katherine backed out of the cell. If she’d had the energy, she would have laughed. She was too tired and hungry — and aching — to risk attacking Katherine, even if she’d thought she could win the fight. But Katherine was treating her as if she was an incredibly dangerous prisoner…
I can use that, she told herself. But how?
It felt like hours before a man stepped through the outer door, carrying a tray of food. He studied Gudrun coldly, his eyes flickering over her as if she wasn’t really worthy of his attention, but she felt nothing. Karl Holliston had paraded her in front of his men, trying to humiliate her by displaying her nearly-naked body… she was too far gone to care. The tray was pushed through the hatch in the wire, allowing her to pick it up and examine it. There was nothing apart from a bowl of slop and a plastic glass of water. The slop — she had no idea what was in it — smelt foul and tasted worse, but she ate it anyway. There was nothing else to eat. The water tasted… odd, odd in a manner she couldn’t describe. It dawned on her, too late, that the water might easily have been drugged…
…But there was nothing she could do about it.
Her head started to swim a moment later. She forced herself — somehow — to sit back on the bed and lie down before darkness started to overcome her. There was a crashing sound as the remains of the tray hit the floor, but she was too tired and dizzy to care…
…And then she fell straight into the darkness.
Karl Holliston cared very little for sex. Power, in his experience, was so much more rewarding; if nothing else, power could bring willing women to his bed. But he had to admit, as the doctors adjusted Gudrun’s position before beginning their examination, that she was a beautiful girl, practically the ideal of German womanhood. Blonde hair, flawless complexion, blue eyes, willowy figure… she would have made a good wife, if she’d stayed in her place. A woman shouldn’t be involved in politics. It was no place for her.
He scowled at the pale-faced doctor as he walked into the sideroom. The man was slime, even by the admittedly low standards of the SS. A sadist, a monster, a man with a complete lack of scruples… the SS found him useful, even as much of them found him surprisingly disgusting. Practicing his talents on Untermenschen was one thing, practicing them on good Germans was quite another. But there was no denying he knew his job.
“Well?”
“She isn’t a virgin, Mein Führer,” the doctor said. He licked his lips, salaciously. “The rumours that she was married may be true.”
“Or she simply gave up her virginity to the first man who came along,” Karl snarled. It had been years since he’d worn the black uniform to impress the girls, but he still remembered how easy it had been to get them into bed. “Is she pregnant?”
“Not as far as we know, Mein Führer,” the doctor said. “But if she was married only recently, a pregnancy might not show.”