Chosen of the Valkyries (Twilight Of The Gods Book 2) (31 page)

Schulze tapped the table.  “This is a decision for another time,” he said.  “Right now, the police are attempting to track down the commandos.”

“The police,” Riess said.  He sounded scornful.  “The Berlin police couldn't organise a drunken rampage in a brewery, let alone find an experienced SS commando cell!”

“Nonetheless, they are all we have,” Schulze said.  “Training your people to serve an expanded counter-intelligence function would take too long.”

Riess sat back, looking cross.  Gudrun eyed him, wondering just what was going through his head.  Irritation at having his power grab shot down so quickly, frustration at failing to take advantage of the chaos to benefit himself ... or genuine concern?  There was no reason why Riess couldn't be worried about the SS commandos, even if he was inclined to use their existence to benefit himself.  The SS and the
Abwehr
had been enemies for so long that Riess didn't have any hope of survival if Berlin fell.

Karl Holliston will purge everyone who isn't willing to pledge themselves to the SS
, she thought. 
And he won’t trust the military at all
.

Schulze cleared his throat.  “Are there any other matters of concern?”

“The food stockpiles are under pressure,” Kruger said, flatly.  “Right now, there is no hope of bringing in food from outside the blockade.  Assuming that our remaining warehouses do not come under attack, we have enough food to feed the city for roughly one month at current rations.  I believe we can stretch that out to two months if we cut rations to everyone, but the men on the front lines.”

“That will certainly cause problems within the city,” Gudrun said, quickly.

“Yes, it will,” Kruger acknowledged.  “Quite apart from riots, there will be long-term health problems.  Cutting food supplies to pregnant women, for example, may damage the babies in the womb.  Cutting food supplies to children will cause other problems.”

Gudrun shuddered.  She had a feeling she knew
exactly
what the SS would do, faced with the same situation.  Round up everyone who was nothing more than a useless mouth - the old, the infirm - and execute them.  No,
murder
them.  Grandpa Frank had been a horror, a blight on his family, but she recoiled in horror at the thought of murdering him.  He’d died a hero, perhaps making up for the sins of his past ... how many others would be denied the same chance, if they were killed out of hand.  There was no way she could condone such a solution.

And yet,
the nasty part of her mind whispered,
is it not better that they should die, so that the rest of us may live
?

She told that part of her mind to shut up and leaned forward.  “What will happen if we cut rations later - say two weeks from now?”

“Impossible to tell,” Kruger said.  “The only real case study we have comes from Leningrad, where the city practically starved itself to death before the defences finally collapsed.  I have no idea just how long the public will remain calm, particularly since we don’t have enough manpower to squash any riot before it gets out of hand.  Right now, with the population already aware that governments can be overthrown ...”

Gudrun had no trouble filling in the blanks.  A starving population, desperate for succour, rising up against the provisional government.  Soldiers, forced to choose between shooting their families and turning on the government, attacking the
Reichstag
.  And the SS watching the chaos from a safe distance, then stepping in to restore order and impose its own peace once the infighting came to an end.  It had happened before, after all, when Kurt and his men turned their weapons on the SS stormtroopers before the
Reichstag
.  And if they were unlucky, it would happen again.

It isn't fair
, she told herself, sharply. 
We wanted to change the world
.

And you did
, her own thoughts replied.

“We will lower rations for those who can handle it,” Schulze said.  His voice was very flat, betraying no emotion.  “And we will go on short rations too.”

Voss leaned forward.  “Do you think the public will believe us if we
say
we’re on short rations?”

“We have to try,” Schulze said.  “And we are not going to be holding banquets when people are starving in the streets.”

Gudrun wondered, darkly, just how many other politicians were going to follow his example and go hungry.  The black market had been a feature of Berlin life for decades, run - she hadn't been surprised to discover, after the uprising - by a number of high-ranking politicians and bureaucrats.  It wouldn't be long before
someone
started trying to sell off government supplies, even if there
was
a war on.  Hell, she wouldn't be surprised to discover that someone was
already
doing it. 

There will be families trading everything they own, just for a can of preserved meat
, she thought, bitterly. 
And girls forced to prostitute themselves for a bite to eat
.

“Warn your people,” Schulze added, addressing the whole room.  His voice was firm, warning them that there were limits.  “I will not tolerate anyone breaking the united front in any way.  The only thing keeping the people from turning on us is the awareness that we are suffering too.”

Except we are down in the bunker and the people upstairs are not
, Gudrun thought. 
And the snipers are still looking for targets
.

“The people of Berlin haven’t known privation in a very long time,” Voss pointed out.  Horst had raised the same concerns, Gudrun recalled.  “Do they have the drive to hold out?”

“Let us hope so,” Schulze said.  He smiled, rather dryly.  “Because if they don't, we are all about to die.”

Chapter Thirty

Berlin, Germany Prime

8 October 1985

Gudrun felt a stab of guilt, despite the gnawing pain in her stomach, as she walked towards the car, Horst following her.  The hospital was crammed with casualties, soldiers wounded in the ongoing battle for Berlin.  Their words haunted her, leaving her wondering if she had done the right thing after all.  How many young men were dead - or crippled - because of her?  And how many wives and girlfriends were never going to see their menfolk again - or would wish, afterwards, that their menfolk had died rather than returned as cripples?

She shuddered, bitterly.  Some of the men had cursed her, others had been so lost in their pain that it was hard to tell who - if anyone - they were talking to.  She’d heard a young man - younger than her, she thought - screaming for his mother as the doctors fought to save his life, watched helplessly as an older man begged to be killed rather than be forced to live without his legs.  And the nurses - and the young girls who had volunteered to assist in the hospital - slowly giving into despair as more and more wounded flowed into the hospital.

I thought it was bad when Konrad was in hospital
, Gudrun thought, fighting down the urge to start crying. 
But this is far worse
.

“It isn't your fault,” Horst said, quietly.  The car lurched to life, the driver steering them onto the road.  Civilian traffic had been banned the day the SS finally surrounded Berlin, leaving the streets clear.  “It wasn't you who decided to invade Germany Prime.”

Gudrun shook her head slowly, blinking away tears.  
Kurt
was on the front lines;
Kurt
, her bigger brother who had alternatively tormented her and protected her. 
Kurt
, who had helped her sneak into the hospital ... had it really only been a few scant months ago?  It felt like an eternity had passed between the girl she’d been and the woman she had become.  And if
Kurt
was wounded or killed, she didn't know what she’d do.  The thought of being responsible for her brother’s death was horrifying.

“I know,” she breathed.  Horst wrapped a warm arm around her, heedless of the driver’s presence.   “But it doesn't feel that way.”

She leaned into his arm, but said nothing as the car finally reached the
Reichstag
and passed through two checkpoints before driving into the garage.  Security had been tightened, again, as the fighting wore on.  The SS commando cell hadn't launched any big attacks, thankfully, but a handful of policemen had been killed on the streets and a pair of soldiers badly wounded by a makeshift bomb.  Gudrun’s father had said that the attacks might not be the work of trained professionals - there was an amateurish feel about the incidents that suggested inexperience - but there was no way to be sure.  Either way, the original group of commandos hadn't gone away.  They would be planning something.

And Horst hasn't heard anything since the fighting began
, she thought. 
Who knows what that means
?

She tossed possibilities around in her mind as they walked up to her bedroom.  They might assume that Horst couldn't sneak out of the
Reichstag
without being noticed ... or they might have finally realised that Horst had turned against them.  If the latter ... Gudrun wouldn't have bet on his survival, if he fell into their hands.  The SS regarded betrayal as the worst of all sins.  Horst would be executed, once they knew he was guilty.  And who knew if anyone would be told what had happened to him?

It was hard to care, in her state, just who saw Horst following her into the room.  The staff had probably noticed something, by now; they knew she’d shared both the upper bedroom and the bunker suite with him.  Her father would be furious if rumours got out, she knew, but she was too tired to worry about it.  And besides, her parents approved of her prospective marriage.  That, at least, was a weight off her mind.

“It isn't your fault,” Horst said, as Gudrun sat down heavily.  “The SS made its own choices.”

He moved behind Gudrun and began to massage her neck.  “None of this is your fault.”

“I don’t feel that way,” Gudrun said.  She felt too hungry to do anything, but sit.  She’d noticed how the price of food was slowly rising, long before the uprising, yet she’d never really been
hungry
.  Little flickers of hunger, caused by turning down school food, were nothing compared to the gnawing pain in her chest.  “How many people are going to die because of me?”

“It would have happened anyway,” Horst said.  He let go of her neck and walked around the chair, kneeling in front of her.  “The
Reich
was heading for a fall long before you were born.”

Gudrun swallowed.  She found it hard to imagine what it had been like in 1944, when the
Reich
and the British Empire had finally signed a truce.  Or in 1940-41, when panzers had rolled into France and Russia.  Or even in 1919, when Germany had been unfairly blamed and penalised for all the woes of the world.   Her history teachers had told her that Germany had been betrayed, from within and without, but now ... the
Reich
might have built a towering edifice, yet they’d built on very shaky ground.

“Kruger said as much,” she said.  “But I don't believe it.”

Horst reached out and took her hands, holding them gently in his.  “Gudrun,” he said, very quietly.  “Gudrun ... will you marry me?”

Gudrun stared at him, feeling her heart starting to race.  A flurry of conflicting feelings ran through her mind; delight, fear, relief, terror ... marriage would change her life, no matter who or what she was.  It would be a change for the better and a change for the worse.  She would be expected to be a mother as well as a politician - or, perhaps, a mother
instead
of a politician.  It was hard to imagine staying at home - or within the restrictive circle of other married women - and preparing dinner for the moment Horst came home from work.  Her life had expanded too far, too fast, for her to step back into a traditional role.

Horst was looking back at her, his blue eyes ... vulnerable.  It was a surprise.  She’d never seen him vulnerable before, not when he'd confessed the truth or even when they’d slept together for the first time.  But then, perhaps she wasn't his first.  Girls might be expected to remain virginal before marriage - or at least maintain a convincing pretence that they’d only ever had premarital sex with their future husband - but boys had far more latitude.  Sex was one thing, marriage - to a boy - was quite another.

She hesitated, trying to think of an answer.  A year ago, if they had been in a relationship, she would have answered yes without hesitation.  Horst would have been a great catch, an up and coming SS officer ... she would have been his wife, borne his children and shared his life, taking a payout from the government for every single child she brought into the world.  But now ... her life had changed too much.  She
couldn't
go back to where she’d been, before the uprising.

“I won’t try to stop you from being a politician,” Horst said, quietly.  She wondered, suddenly, just what had happened to his remaining family.  The SS wouldn't have let them live if they knew Horst had betrayed them.  “I understand you’ll want to continue being ... being a councillor.  There’s no need to have children.”

Gudrun swallowed.  She did want children, one day.  Most married women had their first child within a year or two of the wedding, if they weren’t already pregnant when they marched to the altar.  Two little boys, perhaps; or two sweet little girls.  She didn't want more than two children ...

... But that wasn't the concern, was it?  She was honest enough to admit the truth, if only to herself.  Girls practically
defined
themselves as daughters, then wives.  Or society made that definition for them.  By marrying Horst, she would give up the independence she had won, at least in the eyes of the world.  Her father hadn’t attempted to pull her back to the house, after the uprising, and she had no idea what would have happened if he’d tried.  But by marrying Horst, she might be expected to resign ...

... And if he changed his mind, if he decided he wanted her to stay at home, the law would be on his side.

And if I have children
, she thought,
taking care of them is going to consume my time.

“It won’t be easy,” Gudrun warned.  “You’ll have to get used to the idea of having a politician for a wife.”

“It could be worse,” Horst said.

Gudrun shrugged.  Her mother had pointed out, in some detail, that men rarely liked it when girls beat them, even in something as minor as a maths competition.  She’d wondered, at the time, if the segregated school system - there had only been a handful of mixed-sex classes after she’d turned twelve - was designed to keep the boys from feeling inferior to the girls, rather than the other way around.  Her mother had even advised Gudrun to hide her intelligence, just in case it provoked resentment.  A teenage boy could be ignored ...

... But a grown man - and a husband - could not.

Horst looked up at her.  “I know it won’t be easy,” he said.  “Not for either of us.  But I am prepared to accept whatever it brings.”

Gudrun felt touched.  She
knew
she wasn't pregnant.  Horst could have walked away, without consequences.  And, with a little ingenuity, she could probably have avoided consequences for her too.  If, of course, she decided to have another relationship.  Instead, he’d approached her father and gained his permission to take the next step.  She had to admit it, even if it had taken him several days to work up the nerve to speak to her.

And we may be dead in a month
, she thought. 
And if that happens, it won’t matter if we are married or not.

She sucked in her breath.  The reports made it clear that the SS was inching forward, even if every last building was taken and retaken time and time again before it was finally cleared.  They would hardly be the only couple getting married quickly - she’d heard from two of her friends who were trying the knot, just so they could live with their partners before the city fell.  If, of course, the city
did
fall.

And if it doesn't
, she told herself,
we will just have to live with it
.

She leaned forward, pulling him to his feet.  He was big, taller and stronger than her, yet he’d never made her feel unsafe.  Indeed, she hadn't been wary of him even
after
he’d confessed the truth.  Even when they'd argued, she’d never feared that he would hit her, beating her into submission like far too many wives.  And that, perhaps, was all the answer she really needed.

“I will,” she said, meeting his eyes.  A sudden surge of energy blazed through her as his eyes stared back at her.  “I
will
marry you.”

Horst kissed her, pulling her into a tight hug.  Gudrun wrapped her arms around him, kissing him back with all the intensity she could muster.  His hands pulled at her dress, bunching it up around her waist as he fumbled with her panties; she undid his trousers and allowed them to fall to the floor as he half-pushed her towards the bed.  She leaned back, allowing herself to land neatly on the bed, then pulled him down on top of her ...

And then there was nothing in her world, apart from him.

***

Horst lay on the bed afterwards, feeling tired and yet almost deliriously happy at the same time.  Gudrun lay next to him, her eyes closed; her deep even breathing was enough to tell him that she was sleeping properly.  She’d had too many nightmares over the last few days, nightmares that had jerked her awake time and time again.  Horst knew she wouldn't be the only one - some of his bunkmates had had nightmares during training - but she had more reasons than most to feel guilty.

The Reich was definitely heading for a fall
, Horst thought. 
But without her, things might have been very different
.

He doubted, deep inside, that they would have been
peaceful
.  The SS was too strong, too determined to maintain its perfect state.  Mass protests, peaceful or not, would have been broken up, with machine gun fire if necessary.  He’d watched, helplessly, as dozens of protesters
had
died ... it would have been far worse, he was sure, if Gudrun hadn't been involved.  But there was no way to know.