Origins: The Reich (31 page)

Hastelloy stepped closer and fired one last verbal shot before moving on with his enterprise to spirit away these valuable rockets before the Red Army arrived.  “Are you sure that you want to go and work for the Soviets?  By now, you’ve heard about their vile deeds committed against the German people out of revenge.  They may promise you riches, but we both know they will slap you in chains and force you to work just like you did to the workers in that camp you now occupy.  How many died building these weapons, ten, twelve thousand?  Tell me, did you even bother to notice any of them when they died due to the atrocious working and living conditions?”

The doctor probably had a counter argument to offer, but Hastelloy was having none of it as he pressed on.  “My offer is simple.  My men will be working all night and into tomorrow morning to get these train cars on their way to the coast.  During that time, if you turn over the research documents you and your families may come with us to earn a fair wage working at an American research facility in New Mexico.  If you do not, I will hand you over to the Soviet commander as a gesture of good faith between our two peoples.”

“Pfft, you are an arrogant fool,” Dr. von Braun hissed as Hastelloy walked away to set things into motion.

“Call in the locomotives,” Hastelloy ordered as if the doctor had made no sound at all.  “We need to ship all three hundred fifty of these rail cars out of here before the Soviets arrive.  Also, make sure we have some guards posted at the camp entrance just in case the Red Army arrives early to extend their offer to Dr. von Braun and his men.”

Later the next morning, after the fourth train departed the tunnels, a company of soldiers dressed in British uniforms approached camp Dora.  They forced their way past the token checkpoint security when the guards tried to stop them after hearing Russian accents.

Men, women, and children were pulled screaming and yelling from their beds and tossed into the streets at gunpoint where a caravan of six covered trucks came to a stop.  The moment the disguised Soviet forces began loading the scientists and their families into the trucks, Hastelloy’s men sprang into action.  Camouflaged agents hiding on the rooftops and underneath several of the barracks buildings opened fire wounding ten of the would be kidnappers before the rest of them dropped their weapons and surrendered.

Hastelloy’s men took possession of their weapons, had them all loaded into the back of their first truck, and sent them on their way licking their wounds.  Doctor von Braun was enraged by Hastelloy’s order.

“What are you doing?  Those bastards broke in here and tried to kidnap us.  You needed to shoot them to send a message.”

“Why? They were our allies in this war against your country,” Hastelloy countered.  “Now the real question is, are you sure you still want to go work for them after this display of their trustworthiness?”

An hour later, Hastelloy was standing in an abandoned iron mine in the nearby village of Dornten.  There he took ownership of fourteen tons of research documents pertaining to the German V weapons.

An hour after that, Dr. von Braun, his men, and their families were on the last train heading for Antwerp.  There they were loaded onto sixteen Liberty transport ships bound for New Orleans, and eventually the White Sands missile center in New Mexico.

Around midday, Hastelloy was the only American still present at the facility when the first official Soviet soldiers of the Red Army approached the caverns.  Leading the advance was the familiar face of Valnor.  Hastelloy’s instinct was to embrace his protégé, but to maintain appearances he had to make do with the two exchanging salutes.

“You leave anything for us to find?” Valnor asked in English.

“There is plenty of machinery and hardware for you and your bosses to be well pleased,” Hastelloy answered.

“Any scientists left to work with us?” Valnor asked.

Hastelloy let slip a bright smile as he replied.  “They seem to have all had a change of heart this morning.  It might have something to do with a thoroughly incompetent kidnapping attempt last night.”

“It just might,” Valnor agreed with a knowing smile of his own.  “Just make sure they’re put to good use.”

“They will, and you be sure to watch your back.  I don’t think Stalin is a fan of being overshadowed by a genuine war hero.”

Immediately following the
successful extraction of the V-2 rockets from Soviet controlled territory, Hastelloy made a quick detour to Egypt on his way back to Washington, D.C.  Inside the Nexus chamber he found Gallono, less than a year removed from his forced suicide as Erwin Rommel at the hands of Tomal, hard at work evaluating the latest readings from the Alpha’s Mars colony.

“We’re out of time,” was Gallono’s conclusion.  “They test detonated another fusion device, and have begun assembling a ship of substantial size positioned in lower orbit.”

“I’d imagine they detected the three nuclear detonations on this planet and redoubled their efforts.  How big was the test explosion?” Hastelloy asked.

“It had a ninety megaton yield; almost makes you think they’re trying to compensate for something,” Gallono remarked with raised eyebrows, but also dripping with gallows humor.

“Or sending a message: their detonation is four thousand times more powerful than ours,” Hastelloy sighed.

“And they’ll be coming sooner rather than later,” Gallono added.  “Two months ago they began working on a very large ship in orbit around Mars.  At the pace they’re building, I’d say we have less than a year before they arrive on this planet with fusion weapons backing their every move.”

Hastelloy paced around the room for a few moments and stopped in front of a row of storage lockers along the left hand wall.  Without warning, he delivered a powerful punch to one of the metal doors and left a fist-sized dent in its wake.  “Damn it!  We’re not going to win this race; not on our own at least.”

“I assume you have a backup plan?” Gallono prompted.

“Have you ever known me not to?” Hastelloy confirmed while opening three of the storage lockers. 

When he began pulling out a collection of modern Novi devices, Gallono tilted his head in surprise.  “I don’t think Tonwen in his role as president of the cultural contamination concern society would approve of this new plan of yours; I like it already.”

Hastelloy turned around while holding a rolled up flexible view screen and pointed the two-foot cylindrical shaft at the commander.  “Let me worry about him.  You just be ready to talk through all of our findings concerning the Alpha threat when I call.”

The Captain pointed toward the back of the chamber where Gallono had constructed a new holding cell, which housed an unconscious Tomal lying on the floor.  “I know what he did to you, but final judgment of his actions will come from all of us.  Nothing happens to him, and he goes nowhere until all of us are here again.  Agreed?”

“That’s why I built the holding cell in the first place,” Gallono growled, struggling to keep himself from taking matters into his own hands.

With that settled, Hastelloy was on his way back to Washington, D.C. for yet another meeting with President Truman.

**********

Hastelloy had planned to take a shower, or at least change his shirt and tie before meeting with the President, but he was not afforded such luxuries.  The moment his plane arrived and the exit doors opened, a set of Secret Service agents rushed him into an awaiting car and sped off for the White House.  Not a word was spoken as the vehicle raced through the streets of Washington, D.C. with a police escort, Hastelloy simply sat there with his briefcase resting on his lap.

His credentials, along with the Secret Service escort, saw him whisked through the security checkpoint and standing outside the closed door of the Oval Office.  From the moment the door opened, Hastelloy knew there was trouble. 

It was the same audience as before with the Secretaries of State and War, along with the military top brass.  This time, however, Hastelloy could tell he did not have a single friend in the room.  Angry stares of mistrust abounded, and President Truman’s usual gracious demeanor was no more; he did not even bother to stand and greet Hastelloy.  The Commander-In-Chief gestured toward a lone chair positioned in front of the fireplace, all by itself – the hot seat.

“Have a seat, Director.  We have a few matters surrounding your recent activities in Germany that need to be cleared up,” President Truman stated without emotion.

“If they can’t be explained, then director of the FBI or not, you’re going to jail for a very long time,” Admiral Leahy declared.

“Well we certainly don’t want that,” Hastelloy said dismissively on the way to his designated chair.  He placed his briefcase on the floor and sat down with his legs crossed.  He then casually rested his clasped hands on his lap.  “What questions do you have for me?”

“First off, you can explain how the Russians managed to get their hands on a couple of half-built rockets.  While you’re at it, you can also address why they now have the means to construct more rockets since they now possess the fully functional Mittelwerk manufacturing site you
discovered
?” the admiral insisted.

“It’s simple really.  They would have found a hundred fully functional rockets had my team not crossed over into Soviet controlled territory to bring them back over to our side,” Hastelloy answered in a conversational manner.

“Why didn’t you destroy what you couldn’t take?” Admiral Leahy demanded.

“Two reasons.  First, there was no time.  Working day and night, my men still barely managed to send the last trainload on its way before the Red Army arrived.  I mean that quite literally.  The train had been gone no more than ten minutes before they showed up to stake their claim on the facility located in their territory as agreed to in the Yalta Conference Agreement.

“Second, we didn’t anticipate finding such a large store of functional weapons, nor such an extensive manufacturing facility.  We only had a handful of explosives that were nowhere near enough to collapse those tunnels or even scratch the paint off those massive machines.”

“The bottom line is that there was nothing to do except take all the mobile equipment we could, secure cooperation from the rocket scientists still present, and locate their research papers,” Hastelloy concluded.

“Speaking of those things: the rockets, the scientists, their working papers, where are they?” President Truman asked.

“You rerouted over three hundred rail cars, and diverted sixteen Liberty class ships to transport the rockets back to the States.  Did you think we wouldn’t notice, or that we would just forget about them?  Where are they?” Admiral Leahy insisted.

“I’m afraid that’s classified information,” Hastelloy replied, taking great pleasure watching the admiral’s blood pressure boil over with anger.

“That is outrageous!” Admiral Leahy shouted on the way to his feet.  “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?  There are no secrets from
us
in this room.  Now answer the question.”

“Correction, I have no secrets from him,” Hastelloy said and gestured toward the seated President.  “I will only answer that question in a private conversation with you, Mr. President.  Then it will be your decision whether to share that information with the others in this room or not.”

“You what?” the admiral hissed.

“I believe he just asked in a not so polite manner for all of you to leave the room,” President Truman chuckled, tilting his head toward the door.  “Give us the room please.”

Admiral Leahy looked like he just watched the President grow a second head and lodged his protest loud and clear.  “But sir, we can’t leave you alone with a suspected traitor.”

President Truman smiled at the insinuation and looked at Hastelloy, “I’m a big boy, Bill, not to mention your boss.  Now do as I asked, we’ll be fine.  Won’t we, Director?”

“You have my word,” Hastelloy replied feigning great offense at the questioning of his loyalty, which only served to deepen the red hue on the admiral’s face.  The angry man said no more and ushered everyone out of the Oval Office, closing the door behind him.

“The V-2 rockets?” President Truman asked straightaway with a raised eyebrow. “They should have arrived by now at the White Sands Proving Ground in New Mexico for testing and reverse engineering.  Where are they?”

Hastelloy rose to his feet, paced over to the row of windows behind the president’s desk, and began drawing the shades closed as he delivered his answer.  “We recovered one hundred fully assembled V-2 rockets from the site before the Soviets arrived.  Now those rockets, along with forty scientists and several tons of research papers are on their way to the Roswell Army Air Field; also in New Mexico.”

“Why the redirect, you have no authority to do that?” the President demanded.  “White Sands exists for this very reason.  Hell, that’s where we tested the bomb.  They are set up to maintain secrecy and have all the equipment needed to test and develop the technology.”

“Those rockets are not going to be worked on.  They’re going to be used,” Hastelloy said as he drew the last set of curtains shut.

“Used?” President Truman repeated with an understandably confused look.  “On who?  The war’s over.”

“On a threat far greater than the Nazis or the Soviet Union,” Hastelloy said on his way to retrieving his briefcase and setting it on the coffee table.  While working the combinations he elaborated further, “What you are about to see, as farfetched as it may sound, is absolutely genuine.”

With that said, Hastelloy pulled out a two-foot long roll of flexible silicone and placed it on the coffee table between them.  He held one end of the roll, and unfurled it with his other hand to reveal a two-foot by three-foot display screen.  It came to life when Hastelloy touched a glowing blue square in the lower left corner.

The President looked on with openmouthed wonder as a crystal clear image shone up from the table as if he were looking through a window into another room.

“Commander Gallono, can you hear me?” Hastelloy asked.

The moment Gallono’s face stepped into the view screen frame, President Truman sprung to his feet and lurched backward several feet.  “What in God’s name is this, some sort of television…and in color?”

“Something like that,” Gallono replied from the table surface.

“It’s…it’s a live feed?  Without cameras or microphones?  How?  Where did you get this?” the President managed to ask.

Hastelloy walked around the table and placed a set of reassuring hands on the President’s shoulders.  “We’ll get there in a minute, but first Commander Gallono needs to show you what the real threat is to this nation and this planet.  Commander, spare none of the details.”

“Yes sir,” Gallono responded and had his picture replaced by the image of a red sphere surrounded by the darkness of space.  “Do you recognize this image Mr. President?”

“It is a red planet that I can only assume is Mars.”

“Correct,” came Gallono’s voice as the image began zooming in toward the planet’s surface.  “What you are watching is a recording from two months ago. 

As the image drew closer to the planet’s surface, mountains and valleys became distinguishing features over the landscape.  Soon the faint outline of a tall, metal scaffolding became visible.  On top of that tower stood an oval shaped object.  With the camera view still several miles out from the tower, the view silently erupted into a blinding point of light that expanded to fill the entire view screen.  Several seconds later, the blinding light gave way to a rising tower of flames that morphed into a mushroom-shaped cloud reaching over a hundred miles into the atmosphere.

“An atomic bomb was tested on Mars?” the President asked for confirmation.  “You want me to believe the Russians conducted a test of an atomic bomb on the surface of Mars two months ago?”

“It wasn’t the Russians,” Hastelloy said with a subtle shake of his head.

“And it wasn’t an atomic bomb,” Gallono added with his face once again gracing the display screen.  “Your three atom bombs have packed an explosive yield of roughly twenty kilotons of TNT each.  What you just witnessed was a hydrogen-based thermonuclear device.  It carried an explosive yield of ninety megatons, or roughly four thousand times more powerful than the Trinity test or the bombs dropped on Japan.”

“The fireball itself was nearly five miles in diameter and the blast radius extended another hundred in all directions,” Gallono went on.  “I don’t even want to consider how widespread the radiation fallout was, but it would be substantial.  If one of these were ever put over New York City, America’s entire northeastern coastline would cease to exist.”

President Truman stood in stunned silence for several minutes until he began looking about the room.  He was searching for answers to questions his mind could not even piece together properly.  In the end, he defaulted to the only explanation he could comprehend. “It’s a trick.  This can’t be.  Why are you doing this?”

“It’s no trick,” Hastelloy calmly replied.

“You and your FBI have all kinds of secret gadgets up your sleeves, this is just a trick.  Anyone with your resources could duplicate this show you just put on.”

“Maybe, but could they also do this?” Hastelloy asked pulling out a bright blue cube from his briefcase and placing it on top of the flat silicone view screen.  He tapped a button on top, which caused a blue haze to expand outward and envelope the entire office in an electric blue cloud.  The haze coalesced into life-sized, three-dimensional objects that had a phantom-like, transparent appearance.