The outline of the girl vanished. Himmler’s eyes widened as her body became part of the swirling greens and blues of the electromagnetic storm.
“She’s through, she has made the transit!” Thomsen said loudly. “Cut power to fifty percent,” he said as he saw five technicians run forward with fire extinguishers when they heard the power being curtailed to the machine. “Prepare one-way communication link,” he finished as he walked over to the small radio set that was connected to the main floor of the lab.
The young girl felt the assault on her body and senses ease as her mind started to unscramble. Her stomach heaved once more and the last of her evening supper emptied onto the cold concrete floor. She rose to her elbows and wiped her mouth. Then she quickly remembered where she was and frantically looked back and saw that the doorway was there and still open. The vortex of light and swirling particles obscured the other side but she knew that they were there, waiting to see if the experiment worked. She felt the evilness of the eyes that waited impatiently. She started to stand on shaky, weakened legs.
The room she was in was the exact double of the one in which she had just left. She actually had figured out after the initial test more than a week before that it was in fact the very same room she had left behind. The laboratory was empty of the advanced displacement equipment and the immense space was sparse of light. Only the doorway’s frame that held the corresponding signal remained. Spiderwebs blew in the onslaught of wind still being produced by the partially opened doorway. She took a tentative step away from the swirling vortex and felt the ease of pressure. Her head stopped aching and her bones felt as if they had been resolidified somehow. Her stomach settled and she realized that she was thirsting to death. It was as if every bit of moisture had been sucked from her body. Then she saw through the swirling and flashing of the doorway behind her a large water bottle with folded paper cones beside it. She approached cautiously. Her hand reached for the dust-covered clear bottle but froze when the voice came through the doorway.
“Yes, you are thirsty, drink, we have very little time. You must be rehydrated before your return.”
The voice echoed in the emptiness of the deserted bunker as if an ancient god were talking to her from Olympus. Her heart leaped as the voice of Thomsen filled the girl with dread. Her hand lowered, forsaking the bottle.
“Ah, yes, the thought that will always come to the trapped animal — the brief glimpse of escape.”
The girl felt as if her thoughts had been read. She swallowed as her eyes tried to pierce the round circle of the doorway.
“But you have not thought this through, my dear. You were chosen for your above-average intelligence by our benefactor, the Reichsführer, and also because you come with built-in assurances of cooperation.”
Moira realized at that moment that which she so readily forgot — her small brother who was still in their evil hands. She tentatively reached for the water. She unfolded the paper cone and then uncorked the bottle and poured. She drank until she thought she would burst. She had no choice. When she finished she placed the bottle down beside the others she had drank on the other test nights. There were three empty bottles.
“Now, the proof that the Reichsführer requires is on the table, pick anyone, they are all the same.”
The girl saw the lined-up newspapers. The headlines of each were covered by a thick layer of dust. She reached for the first newspaper. She blew the dust free and read. She knew very little of the English language but Moira knew instinctively that the headline was not a good one. “American Fortress of Corregidor Falls to Japs.” She retrieved the paper with the scrawled signature of Heinrich Himmler next to the bold print and turned toward the doorway.
Squadron Commander Gibson brought the giant Lancaster to within fifteen feet of the surface of the reservoir as his assault charged through the front door of the German antiaircraft defenses. This was the second run against the dam. He had braved the first just to make sure that the level of the waterline had not gone down as they had to skip their payload over the two anti-torpedo nets that spanned the waterway in front of the enormous dam.
“Speed, two hundred thirty knots. Altitude, sixty feet, Gibby, for God’s sake let her go!” the copilot screamed as the Lancaster bore in on the dam’s angled facing.
Gibson knew they only had one shot at this. If the attack failed the industrial might of Germany would be unaffected, and the research involving the development of hard water would continue.
“I hate to say this, but we’re so bloody close to the water we see fish!” came the voice of the starboard machine gunner as the Lancaster roared in, climbing to sixty feet over the shining waters of the Möhne.
“Now!” Gibson cried as he saw the white face of the dam grow like a wall of destruction in his windscreen.
“Upkeep away!” called the bombardier.
The cylindrical Upkeep hit the water just as Gibson pulled up on the stick with all the strength he and his copilot could muster. It felt as though the twin-tailed bomber was going to strike the top of the Möhne Dam but at the last moment the great bomber cleared it by a mere six feet. The force of the bombers’ wash knocked over five German soldiers on the walkway as it passed. The Lancaster climbed free as the five-foot-long, barrel-like bomb started its magical skipping action toward the dam. It bounced over the line cable of the first torpedo net and then the second. There was nothing to stop it from striking the dam now.
Six times the Bouncing Baby Boy struck the water and then rose back into the dark night sky. Soon the sheer weight of the giant bomb slowed her advance to the point that the nine-thousand-pound bomb was only traveling at 100 kilometers per hour when it struck the reservoir side of the dam. It hit with a force that knocked more German soldiers from their feet as they scrambled to watch the attack. Then gravity took hold and the Upkeep settled and quickly sank into the frigid waters of the Möhne reservoir. It sank, spinning and bumping against the reinforced concrete and then crawled along the face as it was designed to do with the backspin of the launch. It fell directly where it was supposed to fall — right to the base of the fragile system.
Himmler watched and waited. He never suspected the subject of the test, the Traveler, would fail to return. After all, as long as she had the hope of saving her brother she would finish what the experiment called for.
“I assume you have retrieved the evidence of your travel, so return to the doorway,” Thomsen said into the microphone as he watched the anticipation on the Reichsführer’s face. “Charge the doorway, one hundred and ten percent power.”
The doorway started to spin at a fantastic speed and the sparks of color returned. The connection was made once more. Soon Himmler would have the proof he needed. His grand escape plan was now a viable option to his hanging at the hands of his enemies, the allies.
“Power output at one hundred and fifteen percent!” the technician called into the loud void of the laboratory.
They felt the earth beneath the bunker roll as if the ground was made of water instead of bedrock. Heinrich Himmler’s eyes widened in shock as the doorway erupted in flame and sparks as her emergency backup systems were knocked offline.
“Mein Gott, what has happened?” Thomsen cried as he felt the first ripple of earth movement.
As for Himmler, he knew exactly what had happened. He had been warned of possible RAF assaults on the power-producing systems of the war effort.
“No!” he said loudly as the world around him turned to electrical flame.