|
|
Post by spanishspy on Dec 29, 2017 5:29:23 GMT
Preface: This is a reboot of a timeline I wrote about five years ago on the Alternate History Wikia. I've decided to go full Wolfenstein on the concept. The original idea was more than a little meta, and so will this, but the original idea is ripe for dystopia, and so this shall be. Without further ado: THE WORST OF ALL POSSIBLE TIMELINES
BY SPANISHSPY
July 1940
The British Empire thought it could breath. The evacuations at Dunkirk had succeeded, and the British Expeditionary Force had been brought back home. But this was no clearing, no calm in the storm.
The German bombers came buzzing over the windswept island, and pounded its cities with the obvious goal of conquest. The British had expected that.
They very much did not expect the radar blips coming from seemingly nowhere. Not from France, not from Germany, not even from Spain or Norway.
The men on the rooftops with binoculars saw these blips were very real, and they came from the skies.
These floating leviathans came down from the heavens, proving to that windswept island that we were not alone.
And they did not come in peace.
These gigantic ships flew through British skies, knocking down fighters and bombers, and obliterated Royal Air Force landing strips. They landed ground forces which were like nothing humankind had seen.
And then they noticed that many of these ships and strange tanks had swastikas painted on them.
Indeed these visitors did not fire on German troops or German planes or German ships.
They were allies.
It was not long before the Wehrmacht troops began showing up in Kent and Sussex and Essex and Surrey, all armed with rifles and tanks and other things straight out of the pulps. Whatever Britannia could muster was turned into mincemeat by the Germans and their extraterrestrial allies.
As valiant as their fight was, the sons of Albion had to surrender. The Germans and their otherworldly assistance marched right into London, rendering any ramshackle defenses worthless.
And there, in the Palace of Westminster, Adolf Hitler and his batlike allies personally accepted a royal surrender. |
|
|
|
Post by spanishspy on Dec 30, 2017 3:03:11 GMT
Belgrade, 2017
It was cold. It was often cold in Belgrade this time of year. But now it was most definitely cold, but where he would be going was far, far colder.
It was only recently that the Reich military administration had allowed Belgrade its own spaceport. He was boarding one of the first ships to leave. There was no reason for a Serbian to own a private ship. Neither Berlin nor the Flughunden, the bats, would allow private ship ownership, and would not for decades.
So Matja Mitrovic had every intention to take a public ship. Where? Offworld.
All he knew was that there was allegedly help far beyond Earth's orbit. Help with connections with other species oppressed by the Bats' proxies. The rumor was always there, but he had received a dossier from a mole in the Reich's Danish government.
All Matja had was a Serbian passport, some documents about the progress of Generalplan Ost, and a single name to help him on his way.
Turteltaub.
He wasn't sure what it meant, but his sources said it was extremely important.
"All passengers to Pluto, please proceed to Terminal B in twenty minutes" proclaimed the intercom, in German, Serbian, and Bat.
|
|
|
|
Post by spanishspy on Jan 6, 2018 3:11:37 GMT
The flight to Pluto was very short. Several of Matja's fellow travelers were utterly shocked by the speed at which the ship had made its way to the outer reaches of the solar system.
Matja had never been on a ship with ISOT drive. Interspacial Object Transport was the science that had powered the Bats' sprawling empire. It was the technology that allowed different solar systems to thrive and be exploited by the Bats on their homeworld of Cvidarrki.
Pluto, from space, was clearly a backwater. There wasn't the terraforming going on like on the Reich colonies on Mars, no. There were several domes, though, with cities inside them, and too many swastika flags.
As they came down, though, Matja could see something allowed here that was allowed nowhere else in the Reich.
Synagogues.
It was something that the party bosses in Welthaupstadt Germania very much did not want you to know, down on the blue orb that humanity came from. No, they wanted to pretend that the master race had triumphed against its greatest foe, that the Final Solution had been both final and a solution.
But Pluto was simply beyond their caring. The very last open Jewish population in the Reich was here.
And they were not the only people here that Berlin wanted you to forget. The greatest of dissidents in the Reich lived here.
He landed in the spaceport. It was named for Reinhard Heydrich, who the press was hailing for his recent 'counterinsurgency' efforts in other parts of the Bats' empire. Indeed the city was named Heydrichstadt.
As he landed and saw the people here, he could tell that they were not the type to want to keep the name. There was actual political discussion, at least out of earshot of the Wehrmacht troops that occasionally patrolled the streets.
Posters lined the walls, advertising names Matja had heard only in quiet hideaways. They were dissidents, and they were popular.
Stirling, Birmingham, Chabon, all names whose pamphlets discussed the world as it ought to be, and ought to have been, free of the miserable cruel Reich. Not even those words were good enough.
Names. More names. So many names.
And then he saw one.
Turteltaub. H. N. Turteltaub was giving a talk the next morning in a Bohemian Cafe on a Montefiore Street.
There was his lead.
|
|
|
|
Post by spanishspy on Jan 11, 2018 9:23:24 GMT
"You see, there, right there! The Reich is nothing more than a stooge of the Bats on Cvidarrki! You get rid of them, you get rid of the Reich, and you get rid of the order that has oppressed us! It's that simple!"
Heinrich Norbert Turteltaub finished his talk at the little deli on Montefiore street, to which the crowd clapped. He was bearded and with glasses; nobody here could afford the surgery to get rid of nearsightedness, and it wasn't likely any self-respecting practitioner of ophthalmology would accept a Jewish patient, now would they? Not in the Reich, no doubt.
Matja waited for the crowd to taper out. They did one by one; he heard many languages, like German and Polish and Russian and Ukrainian and Hungarian.
As well as what he thought was Yiddish.
When the crowd was almost gone, Matja approached Turteltaub, who was packing his bags with his small computer
"Yes, sir?" asked Turteltaub, in German.
"Herr Turteltaub, my name is Matja Mitrovic. I have been told to inform you that the sun will rise tomorrow."
Turteltaub quieted. He leaned into Matja's ear. "I was told to expect you sometime. Come with me. I have a car."
They continued in silence to the parking lot, and got into a modest vehicle, one that had to be manually driven. Most vehicles in the Reich were self-driven, with the obvious exception of military vehicles.
Such vehicles flew overhead, the swastika painted on them, and obviously. This was their world, it proclaimed boldly. They would let nobody else have it.
"We don't want to attract too much attention. Also, don't say anything suspicious while we're in the car. I suspect it's wired."
They got in, and navigated the meandering mess that was the city of Heydrichstadt. Despite being in a massive dome, the city had been allowed to grow haphazardly. Matja got the sense that this whole settlement was another vanity project so the Reich could boast of its triumph to all Earth. There was some mining, but nothing like that of the gas giants.
It was a slum. A ghetto for the entirety of the Reich.
And, given the origins of the word 'ghetto,' it was all too fitting.
Turteltaub's care entered what appeared to be an absolute shantytown, made of boxes and crates and shipping containers and the occasional derelict passenger or cargo ship. The streets soon shrunk to the size of his car just about, and the streets were crowded with men in yarmulkes and more devout attire, as well as modestly dressed women.
They pulled into a small garage. "Let's go," remarked Turteltaub, who opened the car's windshield, which covered the bulk of the roof. They got out, and Turteltaub took Matja into the house in which the garage was attached.
It was a grungy, musky place. It smelled of dust, and a good deal of the walls were covered in the grey specks that were characteristic of poor areas.
"Brother in struggle!" called out Turteltaub, "I have you a visitor!"
Matja could hear a rumbling from the back, and then plodding, metallic footsteps.
Out from the back room came a man in a robotic suit. He wheezed and coughed, and was breathing heavily from just that small exertion. He took a breath from a face mask that dangled off of his suit's chest.
It was a face that so many people on Earth revered, but thought dead. It was a face that Matja thought he'd never see with his two eyes. It was instantly recognizable, even in old age.
There stood Mordechai Anielewicz, alive contrary to popular belief.
|
|
|
|
Post by spanishspy on Jan 12, 2018 7:55:20 GMT
Jekaterinburg, Reichskommissariat Ural, 2018 Dietmar Schilder, Governor of the Reich's Uralic territories, was expecting somebody, but not a person. He was expecting an Untermenschen. One of the Russian stooges propped up to ensure the will of the Reich this far east. The town of Nischnewartowsk wanted something or other, and so the untermensch had come to beg. "Herr Orlov has arrived, sir. Should I let him in?" asked the artificial intelligence that supported the governor. "Ja. Let him in." Orlov walked in. Schilder could tell this Russian was terrified. Physically panicking. Just the way he liked it. "What do you want, cockroach?" asked the governor. Orlov was merely a messenger. A lackey, or so much he could be given that all Russians were lackeys to Berlin. "Sir, the people of Nischnewartowsk must ask, do you truly need all the men you take from us? Our womenfolk need husbands such that our children can be taken care of. I'm certain you have some machines from the Bats that can make the construction of the new city in Surgut go quicker? Surely the master race like yourself can do such a thing?" He was whimpering, trying to keep composure. Schilder was aghast. "A rat like you daring to question a superior man like me?" This wasn't supposed to happen. The vermin that inhabited Russia were not made to question a German like that! It was in their blood! He didn't remember the exact reason why. It was something he learned in school, but the details escaped. Surely, he thought, there must be a reason! Orlov broke down in tears. "Please! Please! I am only a messenger! Please have mercy! I beg of you!" He started sobbing and tearing at his hair. He was incoherent. "Emmi?" he asked his computerized assistant, "Could you tell the Bats that Nischnewartowsk needs to be dealt with?" Schilder gestured to the big screen on his wall. "Now, rat, go and behold what you have made happen!" ...
The rumble of the truck engines made Lara want to cover her ears. But she could not, for her little daughter could not yet walk, and the paltry amount of food she had gotten from the market had been . Little Katyusha didn't like the noise, and so was starting to cry. The line of trucks belonging to the Reichskommissariat and to the local police was streaming out of Nischnewartowsk. Why? She didn't know. "Now, Katyusha, don't be annoying! Don't be annoying!" she chided her daughter with bated breath. The last thing anyone who wasn't German in the Reich wanted to be was annoying. Lara's breath began to be very shallow. An officer, flanked by armed guards, was coming by. His grey longcoat kept him warm in the bitter cold, and his cap only accented his steely eyes. "You! Cockroach! Make your spawn stop screeching! I find it annoying!" "I'm trying! I'm trying! Please, have mercy! I beg of you!" she pleaded to the officer. Katyusha still screamed in agony. The officer stopped his pace to confront her. "You know what you should do when an Aryan walks by! Make your runt be quiet!" Lara dropped her groceries and shook her baby. "Don't be sad! Don't be sad! Your mother will keep you happy! See? Herr Officer doesn't want you to be sad!" Her baby still cried. The look on the officer's face was unamused. He reached into a coat pocket and extended some object towards Lara. It was a knife. "Make her be quiet," said the officer with a flippancy that disturbed her more than usual. Lara's eyes widened. "No! Please, don't make me do this!" Lara collapsed to her knees, swaddling her baby in her arms. Soon she too was making childlike incoherent screeches. "You cockroaches really are useless! I until know thought that there was some degree of usefulness in your pathetic species, but I guess not!" He grabbed the baby and kicked Lara to the floor. He brandished the knife. Little Katyusha screamed louder than she ever had, and then stopped crying. He threw the bloody mess that used to be her daughter unto Lara, still screaming on the ground. "How about that for dinner?" he asked. He gestured to his guards. "Keep on! I think we're almost out of the city!" The trucks and marching men kept flowing out of the city, and then there were no more. The last trucks were in the distance. And Lara still lay there, having given up. Her husband was in Surgut and may well be dead, and now their only child was a corpse whose blood had stained her dress. "Achtung!" yelled a voice over a speaker. The Reich had speakers in these eastern towns to make sure every one of their slaves could hear their edicts. There was none of that technology from the Bats that had become common where the Aryans lived in a place like this. No, they only had word of mouth and speakers. "You insects have insulted the Reich by sending a messenger that committed the mortal sin of disobedience, and in doing so have proven that you do not deserve the name 'insect,' for insects are at least useful. You are not. You are just parasites with no function at all. Since your community dared question us, we have decided to give your city the just punishment." There were no more words. Lara heard a rumbling in the distance. A gust of wind, almost. And then the sun slowly darkened. She looked up, and there she saw something only seen in newsreels in this town, or until now at least. It was one of the flying craft that the Bats had provided the Reich, placed for maximum intimidation towards the inhabitants of Nischnewartowsk. And in a bright light, the inhabitants of Nischnewartowsk were punished for their indiscretion with fire and fury, Lara among them. |
|
|
|
Post by spanishspy on Jan 16, 2018 3:38:03 GMT
"How did you survive?" Matja asked Anielewicz. "We thought you died when they razed Kaunas!" "You see, the Nazis think that we are vermin. Rodents. Pestilence. But that's the thing about pestilence; you can never be sure that you've gotten them all." He smirked, and then sighed, and then wheezed. "To make a long story short they smuggled me to Romania and I stayed there til the sixties, and they decided to bring me to Pluto when the word came out that there were Jews on Pluto. They smuggled me through the spaceport in Munich and lo and behold I am here." "And it's not like they haven't the reason to think that they were done with us," remarked Turteltaub. "The Germans pride themselves on their thoroughness," added Anielewicz. "And it is their hubris that leads them to think that they were successful in their actions. ...
QUARANTINE OF WEISCHEL-SOLA DISTRICT TO BE LIFTED
JANUARY 2018 - VOLKISCHER BEOBACHTER
The nuclear quarantine zone at the confluence of the Weischel and Sola Contaminated District in Beskiland Reichsgau has been declared by Reichsgau authorities to be opened up for settlement in the summer of this year.
During the conquest of our current living space the Fatherland used nuclear weapons provided by the Bats to destroy a large Untermenschen emplacement near the confluence of the Weischel and Sola that had held out to 1946. Reichsgau Governor Josef Moldenhauer affirmed that the area would be opened for settlement, and that its prewar settlement of Auschwitz would be rebuilt.
The Weischel-Sola confluence was struck by a certain variant of nuclear weapon that remained to this day classified. It is believed that the radiation lingered longer than other strikes, like that on Moskau, and therefore the quarantine has been kept to this day.
...
"You see, Matja," remarked Anielewicz, "the Nazis believe they are the ultimately superior people, and that they can do no wrong. That's why, when they make mistakes, they ignore them. We've seen the upheavals before, which were crushed, but they were there. Why? Because the Nazis have the hubris to believe that their so-called 'Master Race' has a natural right to remake the world as they please." Matja nodded. ...
DUNLAP CONTINUES TOUR OF EAST
PRAISES "FRONTIER SPIRIT" OF COLONISTS
January 2018, Volkischer Beobachter
President George Dunlap of the United States has recently arrived in Moskau after visiting Lemberg, Gotenburg, Juzowka, and Jekaterinoslaw, and has praised the current settlers of the eastern territories of the Reich for "forming one of the world's breadbaskets."
The tour, done as a show of goodwill between Washington and Welthaupstadt Germania, was done to show the common heritage of Germany and the United States. "I see here what I saw in the settlements of our Midwest," said Dunlap to the press. "Our nations have a common history, histories where valiant conquerors and hardy farmers righteously cleansed the land of inferior beings and established proper dominion over land that was rightfully ours. Your Wolga, our Mississippi and all that, you know?"
...
"You see, Matja, when we deal with the Reich we deal with a people that has gone absolutely insane after having gotten drunk off of their own ideology. That ideology is the dehumanization of one's fellow man. When a people allows that to be done, to Jews or to Serbs or to any other people, the most perverse elements of the human psyche come into play."
"I understand, Mr. Anielewicz," nodded Matja. "I have seen it in Belgrade, and in all the parts of the Reich I have had the misfortune of visiting."
"And to think they have the hubris to have renamed your home city Prinz-Eugen-Stadt," spat Turteltaub.
Matja only grimaced at the foreign imposed name.
...
AFRICAN GENERAL GOVERNMENT ANNOUNCES APRIL OPENING OF HUNTING SEASON
January 2018, Volkischer Beobachter
Ferdinand Kornberg, the Minister for Hunting and Wildlife of the African General Government, has declared that hunting season will begin in the Reich's African territories starting on the first of April.
"It is a time-honored rite of passage for the young of the Reich to hone their skills whilst hunting savages in the Congo or in Nigeria," remarked the Minister in the General Government capital of Stanleystadt. "Whether in the Hitler Youth or as part of family vacations, the young men of our warrior race will once again take up the mantle and demonstrate the superiority of our nation by hunting barbarians just as their ancestors did when claiming our eastern living space. Of course, we won't let them kill all the savages; we need to make sure our skills are honed, that we don't grow weak!"
Further announcements have included that a Flughunden delegation from Cvidarrki would be going on an expedition in Kamerun, as a show of goodwill towards its allies on this planet. Adolf Hitler himself is rumored to be joining the Bat ambassador, Vor'Kloren, during the hunt. |
|
|
|
Post by spanishspy on Jan 20, 2018 1:23:13 GMT
The massive commuter craft glided through the air, having left from Frankfurt only a few minutes before. It stopped in Erfurt and Dresden, and was now in Brandenburg. In the distance, they could see the skyscrapers, and through them, the Volkshalle. There it was: Welthauptstadt Germania, the capital of Germany, of Europe, and of the world. Luftwaffe patrol craft made their patrol, and the Swastika banners fluttered in the wind. They weren't at the terminal yet. There'd still be a couple minutes of flight time. The hundreds of workers on the plane were either dozed off or buried their faces into their phones and tablets. Very few of them noticed the masked men entering the cockpit until the course started going off what was normal. "What is going on?" asked Heinrich, at his window seat, seeing the scenery descend. They were going up. They weren't supposed to go up. "I don't know!" asked one of his fellow passengers. The workmen became unnerved. They began getting up, wondering what was going on. The craft plateaued its movement, and began blitzing towards one of the big skyscrapers that surrounded the central Avenue of Splendors and its environs. It was a very special skyscraper, designed to be taller than any other in the city, and had a gigantic eagle grasping a swastika atop it. On its side read "REICH MINISTRY OF WAR." "Break into the cockpit! I saw some masked men shut the doors!" The workmen grabbed whatever they could and began beating the door down. They eventually succeeded by breaking down the door with a fire ax. The masked men fired off some shots, but were overwhelmed by the sheer volume of workmen. As the mob began to dismember the hijackers, one of them yelled "Pro Česko!" before he passed. The craft was still dashing towards the War Ministry. One of them tried to change the course of the ship; the steering wheel was still working. However, the speed had been locked on with a virus. They couldn't slow it down. "What are we going to do?" asked one of the workmen. They began to panic. "I know the city!" yelled out Heinrich. "We may die, but we can at least crash this thing where there are unlikely to be many Aryan casualties. We're not far from one of the Untermenschen guest worker villages. We may die, but many Aryan lives would be saved!" And with that inspirational speech, thousands of Hungarians, Slavs, and Romanians died in a fiery plume. ...
"Approximately three hundred Aryans and five thousand untermenschen were killed today when a hijacking attempt on a commuter craft from Frankfurt en route to Welthauptstadt Germania was thwarted by its passengers. Recovered black boxes from the craft show that the speed was locked with some sort of computer virus, so that it could not be stopped. It could, however, be steered, as no such program was inserted to hack that portion of the ship's navigation. The loyal workmen onboard heroically sacrificed their lives and rammed into one of the Wohnbezirken for untermenschen to save Aryan lives. Kripo officers on the scene found identification documents from the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia on the bodies of the hijackers." Anielewicz, Turteltaub, and Matja watched the television in horror as the spectacle went on. The Berlin Kripo chief remarked to the camera, now on scene, and said that "it is better to lose a thousand untermenschen than a single Aryan," and laughed it off. He laughed it off. "Idiots," spat Anielewicz. "They should have known not to have identification on them. Now they Nazis will raze whichever Czech city they came from." He turned to Matja. "I trust you know why that is so important. You do one thing, and millions will be killed because of your own stupidity." Matja realized he was desensitized to that statement. |
|
|
|
Post by spanishspy on Jan 28, 2018 9:26:19 GMT
Prora, Nazi Party resort on the island of Rugen, Baltic Sea
The honor guard stood at attention, rifles pointed in the air. The square standard of the Fuhrer decked the walkway into the building of honor.
Lothar Schonau, Chief of the Chancellery of the Nazi Party, stood at the ready to greet the man all Germany owed their lives to.
For if they didn't obey, their lives would end very, very quickly.
It had been Schonau's duty to inform the Wehrmacht about their task the week before: the utter encircling and razing of Iglau and Brux and Olmutz, all in the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, in retaliation for the attack on Welthauptstadt Germania. Did Schonau feel any guilt for the thousands dead, for the the men whose limbs and heads would be brought back to German cities to be turned into taxidermied trophies? Did he feel any guilt for the lucky women who were merely brutalized and then killed, or for the unlucky women who were brought back to Germany to be the concubines of a thousand bloodthirsty soldiers? Did he feel any guilt for the children who were crushed by the tanks that were sent to these cities, or put to the flame as their cities were burned?
If he did, he did not show it. Showing such guilt was what got his predecessor bayoneted in front of a Frankfurt crowd, who cheered on the punishment of his treason.
So Schonau kept a steel face.
The Fuhrer came down from his ship, the Herrenvolk, and was escorted by his guards. A military band played the Horst Wessel Lied and the Deutschlandlied and Der Koniggratzer, which the Fuhrer simply ignored. Hitler was kept alive via Bat-provided implements, which kept him in this world for over a hundred years.
"Herr Schonau," he said coldly, his mechanical eyes staring into his secretary's soul.
"Mein Fuhrer," responded Schonau, "Your ministers are assembled. The meeting is prepared to begin."
"Come, Herr Schonau. You are an important person in my Reich. You ought to hear this."
Schonau nearly nodded.
They entered the building and then the meeting room. Hitler's ministers were all assembled, bickering among themselves.
"Heil mein Fuhrer!" they all said as they rose to attention, giving their stiff-armed salute.
"Sit down," said the Fuhrer laconically. They did so.
"Herr Radnitzer, the situation with the Americans. Go."
Lennart Radnitzer, Foreign Minister, responded as told. "Mein Fuhrer, we have been paying attention to all intercepted transmissions between Washington, Tokyo, and their embassies in each other's capitals and in Berlin. With the recent stunt with the fighter plains flying over Chukotka and now Hawaii, Tokyo is getting very nervous that the Americans are trying to start something. It also seems that the Americans have reverse-engineered enough leftover weaponry from their pacification that they may be able to stand up to the Japanese. Not attack the home islands or anything, but possibly take Hawaii and maybe the Philippines."
Hitler glared at his foreign minister. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE AMERICANS COULD DO ANYTHING! THEY ARE MONGRELIZED FILTH, THE REMNANTS OF MISCHLING SETTLERS RULED BY JEWISH PUPPET MASTERS!"
The Fuhrer raved. Schonau quietly sighed. This wasn't uncommon.
After about fifteen minutes of incoherent screaming, the Fuhrer calmed down. Schonau looked on his computer, receiving various updates. One struck him as warranting the Fuhrer's attention.
"Mein Fuhrer, not to detract from the importance of the situation between Washington and Tokyo, but I have received news from Reichsgau Schleswig-Holstein that may of be of interest to you."
"Go on with it!" barked the Fuhrer.
"There has been a small protest in Neumunster. Some twenty people gathered in a public area with signs denouncing the pacification of Bohemia." Schonau tensed. This was news that the Fuhrer would not like to hear.
Those who gave the Fuhrer news he did not want to hear generally did not live for very long afterwards.
Hitler glared at Schonau. "Nuke that pathetic waste of living space! Destroy it! Raze it! Show to the world we will not allow such Jewish mongrel treason to exist within our borders!"
The Minister of the Interior, Gunther Haushofer, rose to speak. "With all due respect, Mein Fuhrer, do you really want to destroy an Aryan city? We have never once done so!"
Schonau tensed. Woe onto he who challenged the Fuhrer.
"Nonsense! Nonsense!" screamed Hitler. "Raze that city! See it turned to ash! Give the order now!"
Minister of War Bernhard Preissner did so without question. Within minutes, the city of Neomunster ceased to exist.
"Good. With that out of the way, I would like to present you the reason I called this meeting," said Hitler coldly. After such an outburst, him being so cold was terrifying. Schonau was visibly tensed. Haushofer could tell, and gave Schonau a glare.
"We are now dominated by puppet masters, but not Jewish ones. They are alien ones. The Flughunden," he spat. "They provide us with the weapons with which we rule this world in exchange for tribute. But the Master Race should not be beholden to them."
There was silence.
"You mean to say that you want to go to war with the Flughunden?" asked Haushofer.
"We have enough technology and enough knowledge of how to operate it that we could defeat them in a fair fight," responded Hitler.
"Impossible!" panicked Haushofer. "You don't have any idea what they are capable of! This is suicide!"
"The master race, as we are by our nature, should not be beholden to some flying pestilence! We can do it! We, as the master race, can do it!"
He began ranting again. The Ministers' faces were clearly very disturbed.
This plan could destroy the Reich.
What seemed like hours passed, and the ministers could do nothing but listen to their leader go on and on about nonsense that could not be done. Eventually, he screamed "Get out! Get out, you worthless rats! Get out!"
All the ministers then left.
Schonau began to return to his office in Prora, until he was called to.
"Herr Schonau!" a voice beckoned to him, "I hope you are not recording anything. Please, meet me outside."
It was Haushofer. He pointed to the doorway, and so he followed the Minister of the Interior.
They wandered a bit to find a small patch of grass with no visible recording devices, and nothing that would give away what would be discussed.
"What is it that you want from me?" asked Schonau.
"I can't imagine you are pleased with his ramblings. You have to put up with him more than the rest of us do, by far!"
"And?"
"Look. The Fuhrer is going mad. He's been on this earth more than a century, kept alive only by that which the Flughunden have given him."
Schonau still said very little. "What do you propose, then?"
"You see the insanity up close and personal. I can tell just by the look on your face that you can't stand the man. That is why I am inviting you to my little coterie."
"Your little group of what?"
"Of good men who love the Reich and the Volk and see that this senile wreck of a man needs to be removed."
|
|
|
|
Post by spanishspy on Feb 8, 2018 6:05:51 GMT
Island of Cebu
Philippines
Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere
"Hamasaki is en route in about four minutes to your location. Keep sharp!"
The small fire team waited patiently after receiving the radio transmission. There were three among them.
Gillan brandished his rifle. Nothing that the Bats had provided, for the Japanese (and the Germans, and the Bats) were very careful with such things. No, it was conventional, but a man was dead if he was killed by a bullet or an energy pulse.
Rodrigo manned the rocket launcher. Still conventional. Stolen from a Second Republic armory. Still worked.
With them was Clarita. Another rifle. No, the Japanese didn't have women in their armed forces. Those in the Pearl of the Orient who wanted to fight back did not have the luxury of misogyny.
They waited.
They heard, over the various sounds of the jungle, a small, unsettling whir. Only a small one though.
Good.
Hamasaki's ship was alone.
The canopy was fairly thick, albeit they could still see the sun, and soon the Imperial craft.
The black craft was shaped something like a bullet, or half a bullet, with a flat bottom and a cockpit that curved into a roof from the front end, with the back end holding its engines. On its sides were the Rising Sun.
There was no chatter as the craft moved into position. There was no celebration as the rocket fired, and sent the ship crashing down.
The three of them scampered towards the wreck. The smoke and fumes made it obvious.
They could smell human flesh burning. Gillan thought it smelled distressingly appetizing. Certainly his compatriots thought the same.
There were some of the crew, unarmed, trying to get people out. There were two men and several women aboard, who were all in gowns, and understandably distressed.
"Is Hamasaki dead?" asked Rodrigo.
"Yes, he is!" sputtered one of the crew. They all put up their hands.
"Kill the men. The women have suffered enough."
The shots were quick. Gillan took no joy in doing so.
He wondered if his compatriots could say the same.
Rodrigo picked up his communicator. "Hamasaki is dead. Crew has been taken care of. Five or six comfort women still alive. What now?"
"Report back to our hideaway in Mandaue. We have new developments."
|
|
